


Flying Fox and the Vixens

by EldritchSandwich



Series: Superiorverse [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chunky Sandwich, Dating, F/F, Gen, Long, Love Triangles, Polyamory, Romance, Slice of Life, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Superheroes, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: A year after her run-in with the Centurions, Superior City vigilante Flying Fox has a superhero team of her own...and with it a whole lot of problems, both personal and professional. But then who said being a superhero was easy?





	1. ...and the Cold Open

"Go, go, get in the car! We gotta book since dipshit tripped the fucking alarm!"

"Dude, that hurts my feelings!"

"Shut up! The cops are gonna be here any minute! Or worse—"

The three jump as a beam of crystallized vapor pierces the darkness, the front wheel of their getaway car now encased in ice. Their eyes turn to the source of the trail to find a stacked girl in a furry white bikini stepping into the lone, weak street light that probably made the jewelry store such a tempting target.

The woman taps her chin thoughtfully as she struts toward them. "Worse? Hm...what would be worse than cops?"

The guy at the back door goes down, the little ball stuck to the back of his jacket coursing with electricity. A smaller girl with an animal-ear hoodie and a huge grin hangs down from the fire escape. "I think he was about to say 'like a superhero!'"

"Actually," a deep, sultry voice says from behind the other passenger. He turns just in time for the older woman in the silver corset to knee him in the crotch, doubling him over and letting her follow up with a knee to the nose. "I think what he was about to say was…'like the Vixens!'"

And that's my cue.

In my defense, it wasn't like I was trying to start a superteam.

I mean, I guess most people don't, unless you're a PR firm; you just hang out with your friends fighting crime, you get matching logos to feel cool, that attracts some more press which attracts bigger villains who want to take you down to make a name for themselves, fighting bigger villains gets yet more press which attracts new members, and before you know it you're registering with the city because hey, it'll cut down on paperwork, and renting a bankrupt boxing gym to use as a headquarters.

Sorry, let me back up: I'm Flying Fox. Real name Rosario North, superhero out of Superior City. Grappling hooks and glider wings, no powers, fruit bat theme. And also, somehow, leader of the Vixens.

See, this all started about a year ago when I got myself a sidekick. I wasn't trying to, but Sadie—aka Blizzard of focus-tested lesbian supercouple Blizzard and Blaze—and I were both in the right place at the right time, by which I mean on the wrong side of a breakup with a girl who was just using us to get famous. She wanted to learn real crimefighting, so she ditched her indecent blue costume for a slightly less indecent white one and started calling herself Arctic Fox. I didn't think much about it; it was a cute thing to do with the names, but I was actually a bat not a fox and she didn't really commit to any animal symbolism aside from the fur bikini, so it wasn't like we had a theme going or anything.

That was what I thought right up until this teenage gadgeteer showed up in our neighborhood calling herself Kit Fox.

She had nothing to do with us; in fact, if I had been some asshole big-name hero, I probably would have sued her. But I'm some non-asshole medium-name hero—and hey, no reason to turn down free help—so instead we sort of took her on as a sidekick, which was apparently what she wanted all along. So now there were three of us, enough that it was starting to look like a brand. That was also around the time our tech support guy Trevor started calling himself Sly Fox over the radio mostly just as a joke, then Kit Fox started doodling logos, and...well, by the time Silver Fox reared her head and the first sponsors started sniffing around, I kind of just had to give up and go with it.

The name was Trevor's idea.

I swing down on the grapple line attached to the fire escape, bat-shaped gliding flaps spread wide and leading with my boots. My feet slam into the leader's chest and launch him back against the car just as I release the grappling hook and glide down to a perfect three-point superhero landing on top of it. Shit I hope that looked cool. It felt cool.

As the others look around, satisfied, I tap my earpiece under my hood. "Flying Fox to Sly Fox."

"Sup."

"We're done here. Cops inbound?"

"Two minutes. Surprised you can't hear the sirens by now."

As if they were waiting for his cue, I see red and blue flashes come around the corner a few blocks away. No sirens, but then it's like two _am_ so maybe that's for the best. As the cops pull up, Kit drops down from the fire escape and plucks her stun ball off the guy's back. As she stands up, she frowns.

"Anyone else starving?"

Silver shrugs, and Arctic says "I could eat."

As two patrol cars pull up and the cops start to swarm the incapacitated burglars, I look around at my team and feel my heart swell with pride. Or something.

"Noodles?"

* * *

Every league and superteam—the difference between which is mostly just a matter of size, with most people agreeing the cutoff is around ten—supports its operations with corporate sponsorships. I mean, I guess there are a few that are funded by wealthy benefactors who definitely aren't the secret identities of anyone in the league, wink wink, but every other superhero organization has to cover its expenses somehow. Even if the individual heroes are just hobbyists, someone still has to pay to keep the lights on at the HQ. For the big leagues, that means merchandising rights, public appearances, and your own line of designer athleticwear. For a team of four operating out of the aforementioned bankrupt boxing gym, it means local restaurants on your beat letting you eat free as long as you're in costume.

Saigon Noodle is open all night. A lot of small, cheap restaurants are in Superior City, probably because the surprising number of 'nightcrawler' superheroes represent a pretty big market share. We get our noodles and squeeze into a booth, just us and a drunk couple sitting across from us talking a lot louder than they think they are about how they're pretty sure we might be superheroes.

Kit slurps her noodles. "I really like this place."

"It's not bad," Silver agrees. "Good catch, Arctic."

She beams. Since she's got the background in a big supergroup, she's been handling all our promotions, which suits me just fine; she's surprisingly savvy at it, and it means a bunch of headaches I don't have to deal with. Plus, well...after spending her time with the Centurions being treated like nothing more than a pair of big tits with powers, I can't help but notice she gets this glow around her when she she feels useful.

Not literally. With superheroes you have to specify.

Anyway, now that we've got a quiet moment, let's make the formal introductions. Next to me: Arctic Fox. Real name Sadie Jefferson, twenty five, built like a brick Barbie. Ice powers. Yakisoba with vegetables.

Across from me: Kit Fox. Real name Katrina Papadopoulos, nineteen—and thank God, because as a former one let me tell you kid sidekicks are a fucking legal nightmare. No powers, but a brilliant engineer who makes her own combat gadgets and could probably make a fortune at a tech firm if she didn't want to be a superhero so much. Pork ramen.

Next to her: Silver Fox. Real name Victoria Alonzo, fifty four and still distractingly fucking hot. Also, in a cruel twist of fate, happily married and the only non-lesbian on the team. A trained martial artist and former stuntwoman with moderately bulletproof skin. Pad see ew with chicken.

Which just leaves me. Twenty eight, Puerto Rican, orphaned at three years old then again at seventeen. Team leader, but more by default than anything. Flying by the seat of my pants. Tights, whatever. Pad thai.

"So any notes, coach?" Kit says, only half kidding, and I try not to scowl. She's a good kid, but she's the only one on the team who treats me like a leader-leader, and it always makes me a little uncomfortable.

"Good. But what was your backup plan if the ball didn't work?"

Kit shrugs. "What do you mean, I tested them like a hundred times?"

"Yeah, still. What if his jacket had insulated him, what if it had been leather? What was your backup plan?"

Kit stops chewing. "I don't know…"

"Well, think about it. Stink bomb, bollas, whatever. You can't let yourself get too dependent on one trick."

"Right. Thanks." Kit tries to hide a smirk, and I narrow my eyes.

"What?"

Vicky rolls her eyes. "You've got egg on your face."

I scowl. "What? How? You're saying I don't mix it up enough? I—"

Sadie giggles and puts her hand on my cheek, turning me to face her. "Literally. Hold still."

My lips purse in embarrassment as her warm, gentle thumb glides across the corner of my mouth. I clear my throat. "Thanks."

Sadie smiles gently. "Any time."

You know it's weird; you'd expect someone with ice powers to be cold to the touch, but Sadie's skin's so warm. In fact, as her thumb makes another pass around the corner of my lips, it's almost too warm.

When Vicky clears her throat, I realize Sadie's hand is still on me and clear my throat, turning back to my food and trying not to blush as she does the same. I know from seeing her fight with Blaze about it that Sadie's just naturally really handsy, but I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. I look at Vicky instead, who tips her chin out toward the floor. I turn to look just in time to see the tall, shaggy blond guy from the other table shuffling over to us, the girl I assume is his girlfriend half-holding him up, half-holding him back.

"Hey. Hey, hi. You guys are...are superheroes, right?"

I glance at the team. Kit and Sadie look skeptical, while Vicky looks vaguely amused. I clear my throat. "Can we help you?"

"Baby, don't bother them," the girlfriend says, but the guy shrugs her off.

"I got superpowers," he slurs proudly. "See?"

He thrusts out his hands, and a curtain of multicolored sparks shoots from his fingertips. Kit shrieks and covers her head, and I try to shield the table with my wings as best I can. "Okay, stop, we got it!" I can hear the sparks fizzle out, then look up to find the guy looking proud and the girl looking mortified. "Look, that's really cool, but maybe don't do it in the middle of a restaurant and get us all kicked out, huh?"

The guy just nods. "Yeah, no doubt! I'm gonna be a superhero too! I think I'm gonna go with...I dunno, Sparkler, or Sparkfinger, or some shit."

I just nod politely. "That's great."

The girl tugs on his arm. "Roman, come on, just let them eat."

Kit looks up. "Wait. Your name's Roman, and you can shoot sparks? Why aren't you calling yourself Roman Candle?"

The guy's eyes light up, and Vicky rolls her eyes. "Most people don't think it's a good idea to use their real name in their superhero name, _Kit_ Fox," she says, then adds more quietly "and don't encourage him."

"Come on, baby. We're really sorry, we didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh it's okay," Sadie says sweetly, "the Vixens are always here to help the public however we can. Even with like, you know, naming advice."

As the girl pulls him away, I let out a soft groan. "Thanks."

Sadie beams and shoots me a wink. "Any time."

And with that reminder of the awkward moment from before, we both flush and turn back to our noodles.


	2. ...and the Limited-Time Offer

Kit's a freshman at Derby, so she lives on campus with a roommate who knows about her extracurriculars but who she swears is trustworthy. She's majoring in engineering, to the surprise of no one.

Vicky lives in the suburbs with her husband, a little outside the Vixens' patrol area but then there don't tend to be a lot of supers out in the burbs. Her husband knows all about her night job; in fact it's apparently been a huge boon to their sex life, something I really don't want to ask much more about.

Sadie lives at the gym, which sounds like a metaphor for her workout routine but it's not; quitting the Centurions left her without a place to stay, and while she crashed on my couch for a while back when she was my sidekick, once we started the Vixens it only made sense to have someone at HQ at all times. There's an apartment on the second floor, and she's made it pretty homey.

Me, I still live in my under-decorated one-bedroom on 22nd. It's not much, but it's rent-controlled and right across the hall from Trevor. Besides, I don't need it for much more than sleep, storage, and wifi.

Speaking of the first and third, I wake up Wednesday morning—if only technically, since it's 11:51—to find three texts waiting for me: one from Trevor, who wants me to look at designs for the Vixens' website; one from Sadie saying a potential sponsor wants to meet with us this afternoon and could we push our martial arts practice to tomorrow even though she knows I'd rather be beating people up than talking about business, which makes me smile in spite of my pre-coffee state; and one from Tish asking if I want to do lunch.

Laticia Miller, aka Voodoo Doll, aaka my best friend and former teammate on the Grand Champions, the West Side minor league I used to belong to before the Vixens, works in customer service for a bank downtown.

That's actually not all that unusual. There are basically two kinds of superheroes: part-timers, who have a day job and a secret identity, and full-timers. Part-timers tend to be more street-level, small time nightcrawlers who either work in low-investment hourly jobs where they can afford to phone it in after the occasional late night—retail, office drones, IT—or careers that get them access to crimes and disasters—reporters, police consultants, nurses. Full-timers are usually your big-league heroes, since once you get famous enough maintaining a secret identity becomes basically impossible in this age of phone-hacking and forensic evidence; they tend to make their money through paid hero work on behalf of governments and corporations, or more often just good old-fashioned licensing rights.

"You gonna finish those?"

I shake my head and tip my bowl to offer Tish the rest of my croutons. "Take 'em. Too much dressing, they're all soggy." Tish shakes her head and eagerly transfers them from my salad to hers. "So how's work?"

"Day job's shit. Boss made a pass at me again. All I could do not to slam his head through the desk." I snort. "Night job's...better. Lotta stories for later."

I smile a little guiltily. Tish and I don't see nearly as much of each other on-duty ever since I left the Champions. "Brunch?"

"Yeah, Clara's hosting this week so, you know, make room for bacon."

I chuckle, then pull my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie as it buzzes.

_Meeting the sponsor at 4. Come in costume please! If leather and fishnets don't convince him to sign nothing will ;P_

"What's up?"

"Oh, just Sadie."

Tish clicks her tongue. "Oh, that explains it."

I clear my throat and wipe the smile off my face. "Come on, don't start with that again…"

"I'm not starting with anything. I'm just observing the situation in front of me."

"We're just friends. Good friends who work together and have mutually shitty experiences mixing business and pleasure."

"Uh-huh."

"Fuck you."

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Sadie and I have a meeting with a sponsor. Then tonight we're on split patrols."

"And by split patrols you mean—"

"Yes I mean Kit with Vicky and me with Sadie wipe that smirk off your face."

"Want me to chaperone? Just in case she tries something?"

I throw my fork at her.

* * *

As previously mentioned, the Vixens are a little too small to be flush with corporate sponsors and licensed products. We sell t-shirts and stuff with our logo on them through our website, something Sadie and Trevor worked out between them, but most of our operating budget comes out of Sadie's nest egg from her time selling Blizzard and Blaze nude calendars and shit for the Centurions. Normally the idea of corporate sponsorship would give me a headache, but I feel just guilty enough about that arrangement to let her talk me into meetings like this.

"Flying Fox, this is Peter Goetz, owner of Foxy. It's a nightclub on...what, like 30th?"

"32nd," the pudgy middle-aged guy says as he extends his hand. He squeezes a little too tight when I take it. "Pleasure to meet you, big fan."

"Thanks." We sit down on opposite sides of the table. We're in the 'briefing room,' which is what we call the converted weight room in the gym. Sorry, in the 'Fox Den.' Kit's idea.

"Peter and I have been trading emails for a couple weeks, talking about getting some kinda ad campaign thing set up."

"Yeah, I thought we're called Foxy, you girls are all foxes, makes sense, right?"

"I guess." I try not to frown. "What kind of sponsorship are we talking about?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe you could be in some of our online and print ads, make the occasional appearance in costume. Uniform, whatever you types say."

"Yeah, maybe…"

Sadie touches my arm, probably trying to get me to withhold judgment. She knows me too well. "Oh! What was the other thing you wanted to bring up?"

"Right!" He rubs his hands together nervously. "So, this is totally negotiable, not a deal-breaker, just a suggestion, but...well, look, your little group are all pretty hot little numbers. If any of you ever wanted to...get up on stage for a couple songs, do a routine, I think that could be a big hit!"

I blink, already getting a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Routine? Stage? I thought this was a nightclub?"

I can see Sadie grimace out of the corner of my eye as Peter awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "It is! It just also has a floor show, and...the opportunity for private shows."

Well, there it is. "You mean it's a strip club?"

"Okay I mean not technically," Sadie says, and I scowl.

"Do these floor shows 'technically' get naked?"

Peter winces. "Well I mean not all the girls go all the—"

"Yeah, we're done here, sorry for wasting your time." I shove my cheap office chair back and leave Peter sputtering.

"Excuse us for just a second," Sadie simpers before following me out the door. "Look, I know what you're thinking—"

I spin to face her. "A fucking strip club? Are you serious?"

"It's not...really a strip club. It's got a dance floor, and not all of the floor shows are...it's more like a...burlesque club."

"Do these 'burlesque dancers' give lap dances?" Sadie winces. "Then it's a fucking strip club."

"Look, we can't afford to be choosy," Sadie huffs. "There aren't exactly a lot of businesses lining up to work with a brand new four-person superteam when the Grand Champions are right next door. We're doing good on social media, but we need money if we ever want to fix this place up. You want to have a place for Trevor to work, right? And a real training setup? Well that costs money!"

I sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just...a fucking strip club?"

"It's not like we've gotten a lot of other offers! Free noodles aren't gonna keep the lights on!"

"So we're just supposed to flash our tits for a bunch of slobbering assholes? That's what being a superhero means now?"

Sadie blinks, then her face falls. "Yeah. Right. What kind of stupid slut has to sell herself on sex if she wants to be a superhero?"

I realize how massively I've fucked up just as her bottom lip starts quivering. "Shit. Sadie, I...you know that's not what I meant…" I reach for her elbow, only for her to jerk away, arms crossed over her chest.

"It's fine. You're right. That's why I'm here, right? Because I didn't want to be a piece of ass anymore, because nobody'd ever respect a superslut who makes sex tapes for PR and walks around with her tits hanging out. You're right."

"Sadie…"

"Forget it. I'll just go tell Peter—"

"Sadie!" I manage to grab her arm as she turns back toward the briefing room. Then drop it as soon as she glares at me, but at least I got her to stop. I sigh. "We'll vote on it tonight at the briefing. That's how we do this. Right?"

Sadie rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

As she heads back into the briefing room, I sigh again. Fuck. Nice job Rosie, you fucking moron.

* * *

Not too long after sundown, Kit and Vicky turn up. The way this usually works is we meet for a briefing, then based on how the crime rate's been lately we either head out on patrol alone, or in pairs. Lately normal crime's been down and supercrime's been up, hence why we're pairing up for our patrols tonight.

"What about that arsonist?" Vicky asks, and I frown.

"Still no confirmation. But the cops didn't find any accelerants at either of the sites, so it's possible it's someone with powers. Keep your eyes open."

"I have these new fire extinguisher balls I've been working on," Kit interjects. "I'd love to get a chance to try them in the field."

"Great. Go nuts." Kit beams, but I see Sadie frown out of the corner of my eye. I clear my throat. "One more thing before we go. We've got a potential sponsorship that could help pay to fix this place up. Thing is, it's...a strip club." Kit and Vicky's eyes both widen. "We'd be in ads and do flybys, all in costume, nothing...unseemly. But we're going to vote."

"I mean...I think it sounds kind of skeevy, to be honest," Kit says. "It doesn't seem, you know...very superhero-y."

Vicky hums. "I don't know, it seems harmless enough to me."

"Why do they even want superheroes to endorse their strip club anyway?"

"It's called Foxy. It's a brand synergy thing, I guess."

"I don't know, it seems kinda gross to me. I vote no."

"Well I vote yes."

I sigh. Fuck we really need another member. "Well Sadie and I were already split, so we're deadlocked. We'll...talk about it later. Let's just get on patrol."

As we all split up to prep our gear, Vicky sidles up to me. "Sadie seems...sulky. She hasn't said a word all night." I try not to wince. "Would you like to trade off? I could go with her, try to figure out what's wrong?"

I can't help but smile; Vicky's such a mom. Well, a MILF, technically, but still. I shake my head. "No, thanks but...it's my fault, I need to talk to her."

Vicky nods. "Okay. Be safe out there."

She pats my shoulder, then steps off toward Kit. As I pull up my hood and adjust my mask, I sigh.

Showtime.

* * *

It's quiet tonight.

That's not really a surprise; like I said, non-super crime's been down lately. I'm sure that will change as Halloween gets closer, just like always, but for now it's a pretty easy time to be a superhero.

Which kind of sucks. God knows I wouldn't mind a nice mugging or something to break up the awkward silence between us. About an hour into our patrol, I swallow my pride and acknowledge that I'm going to have to do it myself.

"I'm sorry." Sadie stops just as we clear the top of the roof next to the anemic park strip running along Terry and turns her head just enough to show she's listening. I sigh. "I didn't mean to make you feel…"

Shit. As I trail off helplessly, Sadie turns to look at me expectantly. "What? You didn't mean to make me feel what?"

I bite my lip. "Like...I was ashamed to be associated with you. Like...being open with your sexuality made you less of a superhero."

"It's fine," she says stiffly, and I sigh.

"No, it's not. Because...before we met, I did think that. I thought you and Blaze were a couple opportunistic straight girls with powers who got popular posing for softcore porn but could never be real superheroes. But over this last year I've learned that you're...smarter and stronger and a better person than anyone ever gives you credit for, and I hate that I was one of those people.There's no one I trust to watch my back more than you, there's no one I'd rather spend my nights with..."

As my brain catches up with my mouth, I shut up before I can say anything stupid and the awkward silence is back. Then Sadie dives forward and pulls me into a hug. Even through my armor I can feel how warm and soft she is, and I can only hold her waist gently as she buries her face in the side of my hood.

"Thank you." I just nod against her and hold her until she pulls back, sniffling. "You know it's funny; even when I was with the Centurions I never really cared all that much about how a bunch of random people saw me. But when it was you, when I thought you were...I don't know, having second thoughts or whatever…" She looks up at me, big green eyes under thick black lashes. "I guess it's just different with you…"

Standing this close, I notice a single tear's managed to slip free from the corner of her eye and before I can think about it I'm raising my thumb to gently brush it away. God, she really is so beautiful...those big, innocent green eyes, her soft cheeks...her plump, wet pink lips…

"Sly Fox to Flying Fox, you read?"

We pull apart, eyes snapping away to scan the horizon. What the fuck was that? I jab my earpiece a little harder than necessary. "What?"

"Sorry to interrupt that moment of touching reconciliation, but there's been a fire reported at Bantham and 24th. Unoccupied building, but I thought you might want to check it out anyway."

I clear my throat and nod. Three's more than a coincidence; there's a good chance this is the work of our mystery arsonist. "We're on our way." The comms click, and I turn back to Sadie to find her idly studying the ledge of the fire escape. "Look...I'll go check out this club. See what kind of place it is. I can't promise anything…"

"No, that's fair. And I've been thinking...maybe I should change my costume." She gestures down at her white fur bikini. "Something less...you know, something more serious?"

"No, don't," I say forcefully, and when she raises her eyebrow I cough. "I just mean...you should wear whatever makes you feel like a hero."

Sadie smiles softly. "Thanks."

I shake my head. "Anyway, speaking of heroes, we should probably act like them and get going."

Sadie grins. "You're the boss."

* * *

We're a fair distance from the fire, but we close the distance fast; Bantham's got enough tall buildings for me to grapple and glide my way there, and Sadie's getting pretty good with ice slides. We're a few minutes behind the fire department, but only a few; when we drop down, one of the firefighters jogs over to meet us, casting a skeptical eye over our costumed bodies. "What can you do?"

"I can shoot ice," Sadie immediately volunteers, and his thick mustache splits in a relieved grin.

"Great. See them?" He points to the group aiming the hose. "Shoot where they tell you."

Sadie nods and jogs off.

"Anyone inside?"

"Not that we can tell. Looks empty. Just like the others."

"Where'd it start?"

"Looks like the roof."

"So someone might have started it from above." My eyes scan the horizon, looking for a vantage point. There's not much taller than this building around, but there's an office building about half a block down that—

"Get down!" I scream and wrap myself around the firefighter on instinct almost before I've even registered the ball of fire streaking down toward us. I can feel the impact and the heat when it hits my back, but with my hood up and my wings spread it doesn't do any lasting damage; the one upside of my brief brush with the Centurions was a much more durable costume. I turn back just in time to see the figure in the smoke disappear over the lip of the office building's roof.

"I see the shooter!" I can hear Sadie's heels against the pavement as I pull out one of my grapple guns. "Get that fire out, I've got this!"

I'm in the air before she can protest. I glance back just long enough to see that she's back to work with the hose crew, and when I look back I'm almost to the edge of the building.

I shoot up over the roof and spread my glide flaps, angling down and aiming for the red figure I can just about see through the smoke. Another blast of fire streaks through the air. I roll to the side. So close…

I slam into the assailant's back, eliciting a high-pitched shriek as we go tumbling to the tarpaper. Between that and the body pressed against me, I can just about be sure that it's a woman, and a half-naked one at that. But then, that describes at least half the supercriminals in Superior City so it doesn't really narrow it down. The smoke's too thick and we're moving too fast for me to get a good look, but I can tell she's not much of a fighter; all she's got going for her is the fire, which I'm managing to dodge so far. She screeches in frustration and throws out her hands, a curtain of flames splitting the air. I duck, gritting my teeth against the burning air, and headbutt her in the chest.

She shrieks again, this time in pain and panic as she topples back over the edge of the roof.

Well, shit.

I shoot a line into the lip of the roof and leap off after her; supervillain or not, letting someone fall to their death off a fifteen-story building really isn't the direction I want my night to go. She's flailing, which means I'm falling faster, just have to...angle it right…

Got her!

I snag her by the waist seven stories down, and we swing the rest of the way. I have to let so much slack out of the line that we're almost back to the now-extinguished building when we hit the street. I can't decide whether to try to keep my grip on her or roll to soften the landing, and as a result I end up not doing either; my boots skid awkwardly along the asphalt—fuck, my knees are going to hurt tomorrow—and she gets wrenched out from under my arm and rolls onto her back. I release the line and groan as Sadie runs up behind me, just in time for the supervillain to roll into a crouch. When she does, Sadie and I both gasp. I find my voice before she does.

"Blaze?"

The busty blonde scowls. "Don't fucking call me that!"

As she stands, I finally get a good look at Sadie's former Centurions partner and strictly-for-PR 'girlfriend'. She looks different from the last time I saw her, after the drunken blowout that revealed their sham relationship: her voluminous blond hair is now singed black at the tips, but I can't tell whether it's an affectation or actual fire damage; ditto the smudges of black around her eyes. The red slingshot bikini has black laces crisscrossing up the front now, though whether for the aesthetic or to try to keep her tits from falling out of it I couldn't even begin to speculate. Put together with the thigh-high black leather boots and the sneer of hate, well...she sure as hell doesn't look like a hero anymore.

"A...Ashlyn?" Sadie murmurs timidly behind me. "Wh...what…"

"Don't fucking call me that! And don't call me Blaze!"

"Blaze?" The mustachioed firefighter says. He looks back and forth between the two gorgeous, scantily-clad white girls with the fire and ice powers, and you can practically see the lightbulb go off. "Holy shit, Blizzard and Blaze! I heard about you two!" His brows furrow. "Wait, isn't she supposed to be your girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend," Sadie says. Blaze or Ashlyn or whoever she is right now snarls.

"Oh! My! God! I was never your girlfriend, you fucking retard! I was the girl whose entire career you screwed over by being a stupid fucking dyke who couldn't keep her mouth shut!"

Sadie whimpers and flinches like she just got slapped, and I can feel my jaw clench. "Hey! Don't you fucking talk to her like that. She didn't pry your knees open and shove Weatherman into you, Blaze. That was all you."

"I told you not to call me that! Thanks to you and your dumbshit girlfriend I'm not Blaze anymore." She smirks. "I'm better!"

Sadie shrieks as the blonde throws up her hands, fire streaming from her fingers. I spin to try to provide cover, only to feel cold instead of heat. I look up to find a frozen mist dissipating between us and where the fire would have been. I look to Sadie and find her wide-eyed and shaking, but standing strong.

"What do you want?" she forces out, and The-Asshat-Formerly-Known-as-Blaze sneers.

"Your attention. I was wondering how many fires it would take before your little gang of pathetic lesbo wannabes showed up."

"Well you've got it." I step between her and Sadie, doing my best to take the brunt of the glare. "Now what?"

She clenches her hands, smoke dancing on the tips of her fingers. "Now I'm gonna ruin your fucking lives just like you ruined mine. Blaze was the only thing that actually fucking mattered to me, and she's dead. You killed her! Now you have to deal with Inferno!"

She throws out her hands for another firebomb, but this time I'm ready. The line from my grapple catches her by the knee, and she shrieks as she tips over backwards. Before Sadie and I can close on her, she slashes her hand down against the asphalt. We all reel back, choking on clouds of acrid black smoke. I swing wide to try to either clear the smoke with my wings or connect with a punch, but don't really end up doing either; when the smoke clears, she's gone.

I turn to Sadie to find her red-eyed and shaking. "Hey. Look at me. It's okay…"

I only get her about halfway into a hug before she starts to cry.


	3. ...and the Girls

When we all get back to the Den—yeah, okay, I guess it's not the worst name—and I awkwardly try to explain the situation, Kit suggests we have a sleepover just in case Blaze or Inferno or whatever tries to hit our headquarters. It's pretty nakedly just an attempt to make sure Sadie isn't alone, but from the way she's clinging to my arm I don't think she minds. So the four of us stay up in Sadie's apartment, spread out on the floor, eating junk food and bitching about our own bad exes. Kit talks about her best friend from high school and their disastrous prom night, Vicky talks with uncharacteristic sheepishness about her hair metal groupie phase. I tell Kit and Vicky about Earth Angel, and since that bittersweet PR relationship is how we met Sadie gets something else to focus on by contributing to that. Then I cap it off with the story of the first time I kissed a girl at thirteen, and how my adopted father Roger walked in on us, resulting in us coming out to each other. We laugh. God, I'm not sure thinking about him in the past tense has ever made me laugh before.

By around seven _am_ , Kit and Vicky both need to head home, back to their civilian lives. Me, well, I've got nowhere to be. I just lie back, fingers combing through Sadie's hair, and let her sleep as peacefully as she can in my lap.

* * *

The next morning—well, afternoon, technically—after Sadie and I sheepishly extricate our tangled bodies and she heads for the shower, I pull out my phone. I'm not sure yet how big a problem this 'Inferno' thing will ultimately end up being, but if for no other reason than Sadie's mental health it makes sense to talk to someone about it. And when it comes to having a vengeful supervillain for an ex, there's only one expert I know.

"C'mon in guys. Take your shoes off if you don't mind." The stocky redhead ushering us inside is Clara, aka The Cowgirl, another former teammate from the Champions. Her day job's in corporate accounting, and as a result her apartment's much nicer than mine; big and light and airy, with the subtle Western theme being the only hint of her other life. Clara's good people, even if like Tish I don't hang out with her as much as I'd like since starting the Vixens.

"Thanks for making the time, Clara."

"Yeah, no problem. Office is closed today anyway. What's up? Wanna beer?"

"Sure. Sadie?"

"Please."

We sit around the kitchen table, and Clara takes the first drink. "So what did you need to talk to me about?"

I look to Sadie, who takes a long pull off her beer. "Okay, so...what do you know about Blaze?"

"As in Blizzard and Blaze, as in your ex?" Sadie nods. "I know she 'retired' from the Centurions pretty soon after you left, which is usually a euphemism for kicking her out. Haven't heard anything since, though. Why?"

Sadie sighs. "Well...did you hear about the fires in our neighborhood?"

"Yeah I think I saw something about that. Didn't they...wait. Are you serious?"

Sadie nods, picking morosely at the label of her beer. I touch her elbow. "We caught her last night. I mean not caught her, she got away, but we confronted her. Thigh high boots, black eyeshadow, the whole deal. She's calling herself Inferno now."

"Blaze went villain? Jeez, I didn't see that coming…"

Sadie flinches, and I gently squeeze her arm. "That's why I wanted to talk to you; thought you might have some tips for dealing with the whole evil ex thing." Sadie blinks and looks up from her bottle, confused. I smirk. "Clara's got a history of turning guys she dates into supervillains."

Clara snorts. "Oh, screw you! It was only two, and the first one was way after we broke up." Sadie looks between us expectantly, and Clara sighs and takes a swig. "Okay, so...have you heard of the villain called Chain Lightning?"

"He's the guy who wraps chains around people and then electrocutes them, right?"

"Right. He also used to be a hero called Greased Lightning. And we dated for a while. Dylan was a controlling asshole, but he was never...you know, violent. But then apparently after we broke up he hooked up with Powerlass, and that's when he started to get really nasty."

Sadie furrows her brow. "Wait, Powerlass? I thought she was gay."

"This was before she came out. Right before, actually, there's probably a story there. But anyway, supposedly he hurt her and she and Dynamo beat the shit out of him, and after that he started picking fights with other heroes just for the hell of it. Burned all his bridges, and inside six months he'd gone full-on villain. Now he's pretty much their nemesis. So, you know, he doesn't count since I'm clearly not the one who—"

I wave her off. "Yeah yeah, so what's your excuse for Doctor Starlight?"

Clara groaned. "Okay, no, he definitely counts. God what an asshole."

"Who?"

"Astronomy-themed superthief," I tell Sadie, "not as good with puns as he thinks he is."

"Jeez, that's an understatement…Leon used to work at the planetarium. I dated him as a civvie. After I dumped him he started stalking me, that's how he found out my secret identity. Once he knew I was a hero he started putting himself in danger so I'd have to rescue him, it escalated, and...well, he's doing five years so fingers crossed."

"God," Sadie breathes. Clara reaches for her hand.

"Hey. You know what I learned? What took me way too long to learn? It wasn't my fault. Rejecting him didn't make him into a supervillain. He did. He chose that."

Sadie winces. "But it's different with me and Ashl...Inferno. I got her kicked out of the Centurions. If I'd—"

"What? Stayed miserable? Hated your life forever just so some asshole sponging off of you could hate theirs a little less? You really think you deserve that?"

Sadie fidgets. "No, but…"

"If you were the one who got kicked out of the Centurions for something she said, would you have turned into a supervillain?" I ask.

"Of course not, but…"

"Then maybe people don't respond to their problems by turning into supervillains unless they're the kind of people who respond to their problems by turning into supervillains. You know?"

Sadie closes her eyes and nods, and Clara and I both squeeze.

"Thanks you guys."

Clara smiles. "Happy to help, honey. Now if you'll excuse me I got a text like halfway through that big speech and it's bugging the hell out of me." Sadie and I chuckle as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, then stop at the expression on her face. "Holy shit."

"What?"

"It's from Morgan. Jenna got doxxed."

I blink. "Wait, what?"

"Some asshole found out she was Spiderbite and put it online. She doesn't know who."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine, but Mo says she's going to keep away from other heroes until it blows over, so nobody else gets outed. Shit. I guess brunch is cancelled."

Sadie pouts. "God, who does stuff like that? Like, what good does that actually do anybody?"

"Hey, tell her that I'm going to get Trevor to look into it, try to find this asshole."

"Okay. God, poor Jenna."

"I never thought about it but I guess having a secret identity kind of sucks," Sadie says.

"I mean it has its benefits but Jesus." Clara shakes her head. "I guess the one nice thing about Leon being a creepy stalker is he'd never out me because he wants me all to himself or whatever. You guys are kinda lucky not to have to deal with that shit."

Sadie nods. I frown. "What do you mean? I have a secret identity."

Clara waves her hand. "Okay sure, technically. I mean, no one knows Rosario North is Flying Fox. But I mean...would anything even change if people found out? Do you know anyone who isn't another superhero?"

I open my mouth to say _"Of course I do, what about—"_ and then close it when I realize I can't even finish that sentence in my head. The only people who know Rosario North but not Flying Fox would be...Jesus, my landlady I guess? Anyone who was really into gymnastics at the 2004 Olympics? Fuck.

"Hey, you okay? Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

I look up to find Clara and Sadie watching me, and I shake my head. "Yeah, fine. I guess you're right, I just never thought about it like that."

As they start chatting, I frown. I'm not mad, or offended, or whatever.

I just...it's weird realizing you're not living the life you thought you were.

* * *

Foxy opens at 4.

It's weird being in a strip club—or a nightclub or a 'burlesque club' or whatever—before sundown, but I promised Sadie and this is the only time I have free. I don't know if it looks more like a nightclub at...well, night, but in mid afternoon it looks pretty much like a strip club; a bunch of half-naked girls grinding in the laps of a bunch of old men waving cash in their faces. There is in fact a dance floor, off to one side with the bar along the edge, but it's empty; I don't know if people actually dance there once the night crowd comes in, or if all the dancers get paid.

Well, I guess I could ask someone.

"Well here's a nice surprise." I spin on my heel; I'd been so distracted trying to find someone to talk to I didn't even notice the one walking up to me. She smiles at my look of confusion. "The cute lesbians don't usually show up until after dark. Or are you looking for work?"

I shake my head. "What? No. I'm not looking for work."

She grins, her dark skin split by white teeth. "No objection to being called a cute lesbian though, I see."

She shakes out her hair, long and straight almost to her waist, and I can't help following the motion down her body. Her tight physique is wrapped in a black corset and thigh-high white stockings, revealing firm breasts and long, smooth brown legs. I purse my lips. No, I'm definitely a lesbian. I clear my throat.

"Um, I was just...curious about this place."

"Well in that case...do you want me to show you around?"

I swallow. "Um...sure."

She grins wider, smoky eyes flashing mischievously. "Good. Then I'm Georgia."

"F...Rosario."

She holds out her arm. "Shall we?"

* * *

So Georgia gives me a tour of the club, such as it is. It has a bar, a room with a couple pool tables, apparently they have live bands sometimes. But the whole time, they still have girls getting naked on stage and trying to get the guests back to a set of side rooms for "private shows." Granted I don't hang around strip clubs a lot—or nightclubs, for that matter—but it seems like kind of a weird, niche business model. Like...a strip joint you can bring a date too. I still don't know how I feel about having them sponsor us; if anything, I'm just more conflicted than before.

"So why are you so interested in this place?"

Georgia and I ended up on one of the plush chairs that take up the side of the stage opposite the dance floor. A lot of the other chairs are occupied by older men getting lapdances, and I can't help feeling a little guilty; Georgia should be making money right now instead of babysitting me. Of course, I also can't help feeling guilty for the warm tingle of arousal in my thigh as she sits half-on half-off my lap. I try to shrug nonchalantly.

"I told you, I was just...curious."

"Yeah, and kinda touch-starved." My eyes widen, and Georgia shrugs. "I recognize the look on your face. Not horny, more like you want someone to sleep next to." As I blush, Georgia winces. "Sorry, I'm not super good at the pillow-talk thing. If anyone asks, I'm pressuring you into buying a private dance right now…"

I wince. "No, I'm sorry. I...you should be working, I shouldn't take up any more of your time…"

Georgia smirks. "It's cool. Afternoons are pretty low-key, just lonely old guys blowing their pensions. Course if you're really feeling guilty...twenty bucks."

I blink. I'm not thinking too fast with a hot girl pressed up against me for the first time in...well, since the last time Sadie hugged me, but that's...forget it. "What?"

"For a lapdance. Twenty bucks."

I blush and wince and I'm out of the chair in seconds, Georgia swinging down off the arm relatively gracefully for all the warning I give her. "I should go. Sorry, you've been really...helpful, just...I should go."

"Okay." The look on Georgia's face is hard to read. Relieved? Offended? Disappointed? "Well, I hope you learned whatever you wanted to learn."

I chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe. I...maybe I'll see you again."

Georgia smiles, just a little. "You know where to find me."

I weave my way through the chairs to the door, giving the lapdances a wide berth. A couple times as I'm twisting through the maze of chairs and bodies, I end up looking back—completely by coincidence—at Georgia. And every time, she's watching me with a smile.

When I get out the doors, the hot, muggy interior of the club giving way to the crisp fall air is like an electric shock, and I let out a breath.

Fuck.


	4. ...and the Bad Night

"Any progress on the Spiderbite thing?"

"Not yet," Trevor says in my ear as I scale the Woodrow Building. "What do you want me to do with this guy if I find him?"

"I'll let you know. Maybe let her think of something. And what about me? Any supervillain activity? Hostage situations? Themed gang maybe?"

"You seem sanguine."

"I'm just really in the mood to beat the shit out of something tonight."

"Hey I'm not complaining. It's kinda like the old days."

I sigh. "Yeah."

This isn't smart. I'm not a lone wolf—fruit bat, whatever—anymore, and the whole point of having a team is that you don't have to go into a fight alone. But I need some space to think right now, and I can't do that with the team around: especially not with Sadie, given how...complicated things have been between us lately.

Christ, Rosie you idiot, what are you doing?

"Boss? You there? Got reports of a trio of muggers in lizard masks hitting multiple people up on 25th. You want it?"

"I'm on my way."

Well, that answers that: I'm fighting some good old-fashioned street crime.

At least that's nice and simple.

* * *

"Let me get this straight." I pinch the bridge of my nose, at least as much as I can over the mask. "You're mugging people...as performance art."

"Yeah," one of the guys in lizard masks says, and the taller one immediately cuffs him on the back of the head.

"It's more like...a promotional thing."

"For your band."

"Yeah. Lizardman."

"We were gonna give all the stuff back at the show, we told people they could come get it and everything."

I try not to sigh. It doesn't work. "Okay, well the thing is that's still a crime. Taking something and only giving it back if people do what you want? That's extortion. You're literally extorting people into coming to see your concert."

"Hey, that's not fair!" the first one says. "It's not just a 'concert'. Lizardman is an _experience_."

"Yeah well tell you what, if you _experience_ going over and apologizing to those nice people then maybe you won't have to _experience_ prison."

As the three members of the post-alt-nu-grunge 'experience' Lizardman sheepishly walk over to the half dozen people they mugged, I sigh again and tap my earpiece.

"You there?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"My hopes on account of you. I wanted a masked gang. Turns out they're just a shitty band."

"A what?"

"Nevermind. I don't think these people are gonna press charges, please tell me you've got something actually worth my time?"

"Well excuse me, it's not like...wait, shit, Roid Rage was just spotted in Pine Park."

"That's more like it."

I wave goodbye to the contrite band members and their victims, one of whom is taking a selfie with me in the background, and grapple up to the top of the nearest apartment building. Pine Park is only a couple blocks from here, which means I'll probably be the first one on the scene. From the highest rooftop on the block I can actually see it, and I have a clear path to glide the whole way. As the name implies Pine Park is heavy with trees, so I can't get a bead on him from here; instead, I aim for one of the taller pines and snag the upper part of the trunk, leaning out to get the lay of the land. Between the cover and the darkness I still can't see anything, and I'm about to call Trevor for an update when I hear a shrill scream and a faint "Yeah that's right, run fuckers" from below. Ah. There we go.

I leap my way between the trees toward the source of the noise to find a few people with bikes or dogs making themselves scarce, and in the other direction sure enough there's Roid Rage, lifting a guy off the ground with one hand while a woman cries and begs for him to let him go. She's offering him her purse, but he's ignoring her, which makes a certain amount of sense; knowing Roid Rage he's just pissed and looking for someone to hurt.

Well, that makes two of us.

"What's the matter, faggot?" Roid Rage screams as he slams the guy's back into the nearest tree trunk. "Aren't you gonna fight for your bitch here? Or are you afraid she'll see what a real man looks like?"

He flexes his free arm, and I roll my eyes. Giant testosterone-poisoned slabs of walking muscle are all over the super community, and somehow this one still manages to be my least favorite. I take aim, and when the grapple's claw locks around his wrist he looks up just in time to see the soles of my boots. I roll free as his head snaps back, coming to my feet behind him.

"You know she might not be interested, but I'd love to see what a real man looks like. Why don't you show me?"

Roid Rage drops the guy so he can use that hand to rip the grapple off his other wrist, and the young couple runs into the night. Well, hopefully they'll at least have a good story to tell their grandkids. Roid Rage turns his focus to me, looking me up and down with disdain. "The fuck are you supposed to be? Flying squirrel or some shit?"

"Flying Fox, actually. Now are you ready to calm down, or do you want to get in more trouble than you already are?"

He snorts. "Trouble? Listen, slut, the only trouble I'm gonna have is gettin' the blood off my cock after I tear your head off and fuck the stump!"

He lunges with a roar, and I dodge way too easily. One of the nice things about the internet age is that heroes talk, swapping strategies and tactics even if they've never worked together, which is how I know when Roid Rage gets...well, roid rage, the best strategy for someone who doesn't have super strength is to outlast him, let him burn off his drug-fueled mania until he either gives up or passes out. And as a hero who's more about agility than anything else, I'm fairly confident in my ability to do that.

"Get the fuck over here, bitch! I'm gonna rip you the fuck in half!"

He swings wide, taking a chunk out of the tree behind me, and I have to admit my heart picks up. When you hear someone has 'steroid-enhanced strength' you tend to think it's an upper-limit-of-human-ability thing, not that the guy who's threatening to rip you in half could literally do it.

Still, this is why I get paid the big bucks. Well, I don't, actually, which is why we have to advertise for a fucking strip club.

And just like that, an image of Georgia flashes before my eyes, smirking teasingly and asking if I'm absolutely sure I don't want that lap dance. I shake it off just in time to see Roid Rage's backhand heading for my ribs.

So I'd just like to pause here to point out that I've never actually been punched by someone with super strength before. I did once have Big Bertha try to crush my head between her thighs, but she's more the aforementioned upper-limit-of-normal kind of super strength and, well, honestly it was more of a turn-on than anything else. Roid Rage is the shatter-concrete-with-a-punch kind of super strength, and as I'm flying through the air terrified I'll never be able to breathe again, in a moment of clarity I feel a sudden profound gratitude to Earth Angel. She might have turned out to be kind of a shitty girlfriend in the end, but I'm pretty sure without the Centurions-sourced not-just-leather-anymore body armor she got me after our run-in with Doctor Oblivion my entire ribcage would be paste right now.

In the time it takes for me to consciously think that if I hit one of these trees at this speed it'll probably snap my spine, armor or no armor, the grapple gun is already in my hand. As the line snags a nearby tree and snaps taut, I scream from the agony that goes lancing up and down my arm; I'm ninety percent sure I just dislocated my shoulder. Again.

Fortunately, the grapple slows me down enough to let me roll to the ground. Roid Rage would probably already be here if he just ran between the trees, but he's so furious he'd rather punch his way past them, partially uprooting some and leaving them at weird angles. He's still frothing, but he's breathing more heavily; I think if I can get back up into the trees on my good arm, I have a way to subdue him. I just need something to get his attention long enough that he loses sight of me in the shadows.

And like the answer to a prayer I didn't even realize I was praying, that's when a lance of glittering ice streaks out of the darkness, pinning his wrist to the last tree between us. He looks up in outrage; it only takes him a second or two to wrench his hand out of the ice, but that's all I need. I'm launching back up into the trees just as Sadie steps into the halo of the streetlight, smirking like the devil and glowing like an angel.

"Dude, seriously? You need to chill."

As I hop from tree to tree, trying to get behind him, Roid Rage just laughs. "Yeah, real cute. I don't know who you are, but I'm gonna have fun rippin' that slutty Halloween costume off you. When I'm done with you the only white's gonna be the stuff drippin' outta your holes!"

"Omigod, I get it, you're gonna rape me, you're like so original. You're the first supervillain to ever treat a heroine in a sexy costume like a whore, good for you." Holy shit, when did Sadie get this sassy? And why am I liking it so much?

I shake my head. No, focus! You already fucked up this fight once by thinking about a girl you like!

As Roid Rage rushes Sadie and I line up my shot, my own thoughts catch up to me. _A girl I like._

I fire.

The line attaches to Roid Rage's ankle pretty cleanly, and he looks down and notices it at the same time Sadie does. I don't know how much of my plan she's figured out, but it's enough for her to ice the ground under his feet, making him pitch forward just as I jump.

Given the fact that he weighs two or three times what I do, I wouldn't have enough force to do what I'm doing by myself. But you know what weighs a lot more than I do?

A tree.

My other grapple fires down into the sturdy lower branches of the tree next door; it's a good fifty feet, roughly half the line, at a sharp enough angle that reeling it in full speed gives me all the momentum I need. Even with the grapple guns locked together I grit my teeth as the lines pull my arms in opposite directions, sending another lightning bolt of pain through my already-injured left, but it's enough. Roid Rage yelps in shock as his feet disappear from under him, his body swinging comically from beneath the limb I was perched on. As bulked up as he is, there's no way he'll have the flexibility to reach the line. Now we just have to wait until he passes out from withdrawal, the blood rushing to his head, or both.

As I pick my way down the tree trunk, Sadie bounces over to me beaming and squealing. "Omigod that was so badass! Could you tell I was scared? That grapple thing you did was so cool wait!" I stand up just in time for her to pout at me. "I'm supposed to be mad at you! What were you thinking, going in without backup! If Trevor hadn't called me you could have gotten hurt!"

I wince. "Sorry. You're right. I know. I just...it's been a weird day."

"Well I'm just glad you're okay!" Before I can object she pulls me into a full-body hug, and I can't quite hide a hiss of pain. She pulls back with a gasp. "Omigod what is it? Are you hurt?"

"I think I dislocated my shoulder," I say through gritted teeth. Now that the adrenaline's wearing off, the pain's getting worse. A lot worse. Sadie gasps.

"Omigod!"

"It's okay, it...it's happened before when I went the wrong way going too fast with the grapple, I just need...ah, fuck! I just need to pop it back in."

"What? No, we need to get you to a doctor!"

"No, I…" I try to argue, but I'm in too much pain. I don't resist as Sadie hoists me by my good shoulder and steers me toward the edge of the park. "My guns," I say weakly, and Sadie shakes her head.

"I'll call Trevor and have Kit come get them."

"I have to...I have to get out of my costume…"

"What? No! You can barely walk as it is!"

"The gym's only a...fuck! A few blocks from here…"

"And the Westside Clinic's in the opposite direction!"

"My secret identity…"

"Omigod, I'm sorry, but if you pass out I'm not gonna be able to carry you, Rosie, please!"

As the fight goes out of me and Sadie guides me down the sidewalk, a thought occurs to me.

I don't think she's ever called me Rosie before.

* * *

 

Superheroes get hurt. It's just a fact of the job that if you spend your time fighting people, you're going to get hurt eventually. I mean unless you physically can't, like Indomitable or Powerlass, but most of us aren't so lucky. A couple enterprising companies let you buy 'super insurance' that protects your secret identity, but I don't have it. What can I say, I'm a Millennial.

What I do have, fortunately, is a teammate who apparently knows fucking everybody.

We get a few looks as we step into the Westside Clinic, but not that many; I don't imagine seeing injured nightcrawlers stagger in is all that rare an occurrence on the night shift. We're barely in the door before a curly-haired woman in pink scrubs is waving us through the doors to one of the exam rooms.

"Sit down. Sadie, good to see you. You change your costume?"

"Yeah I'm Arctic Fox now, it's a long story, please just help her!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"I just...dislocated my shoulder. Who are you?"

"Oh, is that all? Well then I guess you're free to go, that's hardly even worth coming in for."

"This is Safiya. We...met back when I was with the Centurions."

"She's a bitch. I like her."

"Likewise. Help me get her armor off."

I wince as Sadie and this Safiya unbuckle and pull off my glove and breastplate, which lets the latter pull my leotard down from under my cowl to expose my shoulder. Her fingertips probe my skin, and even though that should make it hurt more it's actually hurting less. Shock maybe?

"Yeah, its dislocated. I'm gonna have to rotate it back into place, are you ready for that?"

"Yeah, do it."

Sadie holds me as Safiya grabs my arm and starts to turn. The pain comes back with a vengeance, and I grit my teeth and try not to scream. I recognize the feeling when it pops back into place, and as soon as it does Safiya's fingers are prodding me again, my shoulder quickly going numb. As the pain unfogs my mind, I put two and two together.

"Safiya."

"Yes?"

"As in Safiya al-Jamil? As in Neuro?!?"

"Yep."

"You used to be a Centurion."

"I used to be a lot of things. I can feel some minor muscle damage. You'll need to be in a sling until...Monday. Then I'll take another look at you."

"Wait, a sling? No, I—"

"You're on a team, right? With this one? So you can afford to take some time off and let someone else pick up the slack."

I turn from her flat glare to Sadie's big, beseeching green eyes, and sigh. "Fine."

Safiya rolls her eyes. "Hallelujah."


	5. ...and the Sabbatical

"So how long are you going to be out of commission?" Kit asks.

"Just until Monday."

"Monday's when her next doctor's appointment is," Sadie corrects me. "Then we'll see." I frown.

"So how are we going to split the patrols?" Vicky asks, and I shake my head.

"We're not. I'm here because I took a stupid risk, so this is a teachable moment. Until I'm back I want the three of you to patrol together. Okay?"

"Yeah of course," Sadie says, stroking my good arm. She's always been touchy-feely, but ever since I got hurt she seems even more so. I'm not sure how to feel about it, to be honest.

"Okay. Well...I guess that's it. I guess I'm gonna go...be a person for a while."

"It's not so bad," Vicky says with a smirk, "once you get used to it."

* * *

My days don't change much. They were always mostly sticking close to home, doing errands and support work that I can still do with my arm in a sling. Since I can't train I spend a little more time on social media, managing the Vixens brand.

_I think it's so cool that we have an all-girl superteam in Overton! And the leader's Latina! I mean can you name a single supergroup where the leader isn't a white guy?_

_i think the hot one has the right idea they should all get matching bikinis XD_

_Great all we need more SUPERSLUTS GETTING IN THE WAY OF REAL HEROS_

_@VixensTeam how does a girl join? I have a great superhero idea please get #starfoxnotnintendo trending so they see this!_

_So like are they all fucking or just Flying and Arctic?_

Reception is mixed.

I also spend a lot more time chatting with Tish, which is nice. Granted it's mostly just texts, since she has to work, and granted it's mostly stuff like:

_If you ever do anything that stupid again I will kill you_

_I'm not kidding. You've almost gotten yourself killed fighting villains above your weight class three times since I met you_

_If you ever scare us like that again I'll save them the trouble and kill you_

_I love you you stupid bitch_

_Also there's this guy chasing muggers on 31st calling himself Roman Candle is he with you?_

But it's still nice.

So no, my days don't really change. The real problem is figuring out how to spend my nights.

I guess I could sleep, but I'm only going to be out of commission for so long and I don't want to go making any big changes to my sleep schedule. The other Vixens send me updates on their patrols so I don't feel left out, but...well, I still feel left out. With one arm, I can't even go over to Trevor's to play video games, which is an actual think he invited me to do. All I can really do is surf the net, watch TV, and stare at the walls. Finally, on Friday night around midnight, I get desperate enough to actually do it.

I go back to Foxy.

* * *

Maybe, I think, seeing it at night will give me a more favorable impression. Maybe, I think, I feel like I owe it to Sadie after what happened. Maybe, I think, I'm just bored and horny and frustrated.

Maybe even that's bullshit and I just want to see Georgia again.

When I step inside, I do immediately form a better first impression than last time; the club is almost full, not just with men but with women and couples and groups of various ages, and the vibe's a lot more lively and a lot less sleazy. There are still girls stripping and giving lap dances, but with this crowd it does feel more like the novelty floor show that Sadie tried to hype it up as. Was I just being an asshole about this whole thing? I mean, I've got no problem with stripping as a job, and the people who want to find a reason to shit on the Vixens are going to find one no matter who we endorse, so is this really such a bad option?

"Can I get you something?"

I shake my thoughts off and turn toward the bartender, a big guy with a bushy hipster beard that actually kind of works on him. My best tactical guess is that given the position of the bar he's also a secondary bouncer, in addition to the guy who took my cover and the one who's standing outside the private rooms.

"Uh...could I get a...7 and 7, please?" The guy nods and turns back to the well-stocked wall of bottles. I lick my lips. "Um, do you know if Georgia's working tonight?"

The bartender turns back with a look of surprise that turns into a sly smile. "Georgia, huh? Well I don't know about Georgia, but Sister Margaret's just about to do her routine. 7 and 7. Ten bucks." I hand him my debit card, which makes him smirk again. "There's a cash machine over there. Just in case you, you know, want singles for some reason."

I scowl and blush and take a sip of my cocktail. It's good, but then it's two ingredients so it's pretty hard to fuck up. I'm just setting the glass down as a plaintive piano melody draws my attention to the stage. A dark leg in a shiny black thigh-high boot perks from between the gold curtains, swaying teasingly as people cheer. As the song starts in earnest and the curtain blows open, I almost swallow my tongue. There, wearing a short-skirted, sleeveless, skintight PVC nun's habit, is Georgia.

And just like that, I'm nine years old, sitting in Sister Sarah Maria's lap as she brushes my hair and whispers to me, realizing I'm a lesbian.

_So I'll touch wood...and pray I don't get caught again…_

The lyrics of the song pull me back to the present. I don't recognize the song, but apparently what makes this a burlesque show is that the dancer lip syncs as she touches herself and teasingly peels her clothes away. I can't make myself look away as Georgia's gloved hands run up her sides, along her throat, head tipped back as she sits on the chair in the middle of the stage and spreads her legs wide, her tight skirt riding up to reveal the scrap of white lace under it. Until I taste whiskey and 7 Up, I don't even realize I'm licking my lips.

_My opening won't be a great success…'till you come get me out of...this little black mess…_

Fuck. I'm so dead.

My eyes stay glued to the stage all through her performance, as she peels up her skirt to show teasing glimpses of her beautiful ass, as she unzips her dress and shimmies free to show her smooth back, then holds it coquettishly over her chest. When she finally lets it fall and her plump, teardrop breasts spill free, the crowd is screaming. I can't make a sound at all.

By the end of the routine, she's wearing just the boots and gloves, everything else on full glorious display. As she rolls across the chair one last time, giving just a momentary glimpse of the paradise between her thighs, she looks straight at me. She blinks...then grins.

As she runs off stage, I collapse against the bar, chugging my drink and more turned on than I've ever been in my life. I'm debating just turning around and running before I fuck this up somehow, like I always do, but by the time I finish my drink she's back, stepping out onto the floor from the door by the stage and wearing the corset outfit from the first time I saw her, which with the proper context I now realize is an echo of her nun thing. Knowing that doesn't help calm me down, nor does the big sexy smile on her face as she ignores the tables begging her for dances and heads straight for me.

"Well hey there. I didn't think I'd see you again. You finally want that lapda—oh my god!"

"Yeah...what?"

"Your arm! What happened?"

I shake my head. "Oh. Right. I dislocated it, it's not a big deal…"

Her eyes go wide. "What? How? Doing what?"

I have a moment of panic unrelated to the gay panic I'm currently experiencing; since I don't really know any civilians, it didn't occur to me until right now to come up with a cover story.

"Uh, I just...fell down and...caught myself wrong. It's really not a big deal."

"If you say so. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, it's just—"

"No, it's okay, really. I just...I'm not really thinking about my arm right now."

Georgia smirks, and I blush again. "Really? What are you thinking about?"

"So uh...is the nun thing like...your thing, or…"

"My gimmick? Yeah. Sister Margaret. Being a baby lesbian at a Catholic school kinda gave me some...proclivities."

"Yeah, me too…" I mutter.

Georgia tilts her head. "You went to Catholic school?"

I wince. "Uh, sort of. Catholic orphanage. Group home, whatever. It's a long story."

"I've got time." I shoot her a skeptical look, and she winces. "I mean, not right this second, because I'm working. But if you wanna buy that lap dance…"

I flush, since now that I've seen her naked I can't not picture it. I swallow. Do it, Rosie. Just do it! "Actually...I'd rather buy coffee." She blinks, and I feel myself start to panic. "For you, I mean! Or...for us. To drink together. After you get off work."

Georgia's eyebrows rise. "Are you seriously asking me out at work? You know how inappropriate that is?"

I wince. Fuck. "I'm sorry. Forget it, I'm going, I'm gonna—"

"Three."

I stop babbling. "What?"

"I get off at three. Do you really want to drink coffee at three in the morning?"

I can't stop myself from grinning in relief. "More than anything."

Georgia grins too, and I almost can't believe it. Holy shit, was I just smooth?

Apparently I was.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

I can't stop myself from laughing. "Okay."

"Okay." Georgia shakes her head. "Now if you really don't want a lapdance go away, I'm working."

"Okay."

* * *

I actually did it. I'm actually on a date, with a stunningly hot, clever, fascinating girl I like, for the first time since...well, since Angel. But with Angel, I was Flying Fox. With Georgia...I think for the first time in fifteen years, I'm actually Rosario.

"You didn't!"

I shrug sheepishly, or as close as I can with one good shoulder. We've taken our coffee for a walk through Pine Park, ironically enough. "It was the first time I'd ever seriously made out with a girl, I didn't know what to do with my hands, I just...I didn't think about it being a bookcase."

"Was she okay?"

"Yeah we were both fine...until the noise made the school librarian come over…"

"Oh my god! No, see, I would have died."

"She never even talked to me again. I guess she didn't want the rumors getting any worse. Luckily at that point my dad already knew, since believe it or not that was actually only my second-most embarrassing first kiss with a girl."

Georgia shakes her head softly. "What was it like? Being adopted when you were so old?"

I shrug. "I mean I don't really remember my birth parents. I kind of just thought the group home was going to be my life. I guess it took me by surprise."

"I don't remember my birth parents either, but...I also don't remember ever not being a Steiner. I can't imagine what it must have been like just...living in limbo like that."

I frown. "Yeah. Well. I guess I've gotten pretty good at it." She gives me a funny look, and I shake my head. "What about you, do you have any embarrassing sex stories?"

She snorts. "Seriously? I bet I've had more than you just this week." I roll my eyes, and she licks her lips. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Does it...bother you? What I do for a living?"

"What? No."

"Are you sure? Because like half the girls I've dated have broken up with me over it, and you seemed really awkward in the club, about the lap dance…"

"Sorry, I wasn't...it wasn't like that. I just...I liked you, and I've never really been to a strip club so I didn't know what the rules were, and I didn't want to cross any lines, and—"

"Hey." Georgia's hand against the small of my back pretty effectively shuts me up. "It's okay. You were very honorable."

I snort even as my shoulders relax. "Yeah, that's me in a nutshell." She smiles, then yawns, and I clear my throat. "So...how are you getting home?"

"I usually take the train. I know there's a stop on the north side of the park, if you're willing to put up with me for a few more minutes.." She grins slyly. "Unless you're willing to make me a counter offer…"

I swallow. "Actually...I think maybe we should just call it a night. If that's okay."

Georgia blinks, her lips pursed. "Oh. Yeah, okay. Whatever."

I wince. Fuck. "Sorry, I didn't mean...look, the thing is...my last relationship got really physical really fast, and...I think that might have been part of what stopped us from...recognizing where we were going wrong. And I really like you and I don't want to screw this up, so...can we just take it kind of slow?"

Georgia sighs, then smiles. "Yeah, of course." We're in sight of the stop now, and I can see the lights of the A Line a few blocks away. Georgia leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "I had a good time. Text me, okay?"

I nod. When she starts to pull away, I reach for her hand. "Hey." She turns back, and I shrug. "I mean we don't have to take it _that_ slow…"

Georgia smirks. "Oh well in that case…" She leans in, lips parting as they press against mine. It's an amazing kiss, and I can't help sighing into her mouth as I feel her warm breath between my lips. When she pulls back, I lean forward to extend the contact, and when it finally breaks she's smiling smugly. "So. How's that rank in your embarrassing first kisses?"

I laugh. "It's not even in the top ten."

"Come on, kiss her again!"

"That was hot!"

"You sure you wanna get on this train, it's not even goin' to Bonetown!"

We both go wide-eyed and turn toward the curb, where a group of drunk college kids are standing in the open doors of the train that pulled in while we were occupied. Two of them are filming the whole thing on their phones.

I turn back to Georgia with a groan to find her laughing. I smile sheepishly. "It's in the top five."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm aware this is the second time I've written a character doing a striptease to 'Little Black Mess'. I don't know why it's my go-to song for that kind of thing, it just is.


	6. ...and the Mild-Mannered Reporter

"So who are you texting?"

I don't look up from my phone. I don't have to to know Tish is staring at me. "A girl."

_How's work?_

"Gee, I wonder which one, what with the stupid smile and all…"

"It's not Sadie."

"Uh-huh."

_Wouldn't you like to know ;P_

"Her name's Georgia. We went out Friday night."

"Wait, you're serious? You're dating?"

"Uh-huh. Thank you for sounding so surprised."

_Cmon I told you all my stories..._

"Sorry. Who is she, do I know her?"

"I doubt it. She's a civilian."

"Wait, seriously? Does she know?"

"No she does not."

_Your mistake. Now I have everything I need to blackmail you!_

"Are you gonna tell her?"

My thumb pauses. "I...don't know yet."

Tish sets down her fork. "Wait. You're not seriously thinking of Kenting this girl, are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Would that be so bad? You Kented Darrel."

"Yeah and we broke up. For good this time."

"Okay but to be fair, did you break up because you didn't tell him you were a superhero? Or did you break up because he's an entitled asshole who somehow kept convincing you to give him another chance?"

Tish rolls her eyes. "Okay well first, you're right and it's been over for six months so you can officially stop giving me shit about it now. And second, keeping secrets from your partner is always going to add stress to a relationship. Always."

"We're not in a relationship, we just went on one date."

Tish shakes her head. "Whatever. If you're happy I'm happy."

I smirk. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"You gonna tell your team?"

I shrug. "If it comes up. I mean it doesn't really have anything to do with them."

Tish snorts. "Shit, I can't wait to see how Sadie takes it."

I scowl. "She'll take it fine because for the hundredth time we're not like that."

"Uh-huh."

I scowl harder. "Shut up." She smirks and goes back to her salad.

* * *

I've never really had trouble keeping my schedule under control. I mean, in retrospect, not having a day job and all my friends working nights probably helps with that. But even grading on that curve...Monday is fucking nuts.

It starts with my second date with Georgia. Her night work runs a bit earlier than mine, which means our daytime schedules don't quite sync up, but we're able to squeeze in a nice lunch at a Greek place she likes downtown, followed by some window shopping and public displays of affection. Apparently all the talk about the lapdance wasn't just teasing or business; I don't think I've ever dated a girl this handsy.

Not that I mind in the least.

Of course, it's making it really hard to keep convincing myself we need to take things slow.

"You know I figured out who you really are."

That snaps me out of my musings about how good Georgia's hand feels against the small of my back real quick. "What?"

She gives me a sly grin. "Come on. Rosario North? It wasn't that hard to figure it out. What I can't figure out is why you keep it a secret!" I wince. Well, that was fun while it lasted. I open my mouth, but Georgia's still talking. "I mean Jesus, if I won two Olympic medals that would be my opening line!"

I blink, then my shoulders collapse in relief. "Yeah, well...it's not like they were gold. Bragging about winning a silver and a bronze just seems kind of...petty I guess? And it's not a secret, it's just...not a big part of my life anymore."

"Do you still have them?"

"Yeah, of course. They're in my strongbox."

"Oh I see...so in other words if I want to see them I have to come to your apartment. How convenient…"

I match Georgia's smile. "Hey, you said that, not me."

She bites her bottom lip, which Jesus why do I have such a weakness for that? "So...what are you doing with the rest of your day?"

"Uh, well, first I've got a doctor's appointment to find out whether I get to take this off. Then assuming I do, I've got some work I've been getting way behind on…"

"What do you do, by the way? I can't believe I never asked."

I freeze as she looks at me curiously. This is it. Am I really going to do this? I take a deep breath. "I'm...in private security."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you stupid Clark Kenting motherfucker. Private security? Are you fucking serious? What the fuck is wrong with you? Fuck!

I look over at Georgia, but she's just smirking. "With your body? I'm not surprised." She gives my arm a squeeze, and her smile turns pointed, hungry. "Not that I've ever really seen it, mind you...not like you've seen mine."

The image of Georgia naked and writhing on stage comes into my mind, and I flush. Focus. You've got two goals in this relationship, be just plain Rosario and take it slow. Part one is miraculously working, so focus on part two. I clear my throat.

"So how did you get into...your job anyway?"

She shrugs. "The cliche. Paying for college. Finished my journalism degree about a year ago, but the money's so good I've had to keep dancing while I freelance."

I wince. "You're a reporter?"

"I want to be. It's just hard to break in, you know?"

I feel like groaning. Jesus Fucking Christ she's a reporter. How am I such a fucking cliche?

"Hey. Rosario?"

I swallow. "Yeah?"

"I had a really good time today." She takes a deep breath, then my hands. "I'm sorry if I'm...if I've been clingy, or coming on too strong, or...I don't really get to date much, so…"

I shake my head. "No, hey, it's okay, neither do I. You're amazing."

She grins and leans in for a kiss. I thread my good hand through her soft hair, eagerly exploring her mouth and only briefly pausing to flip the bird at a guy who shouts "Girl-on-girl, whoo, yeah!" as he skateboards past. When we pull apart, Georgia licks her lips.

"So...are you still interested in taking it slow?"

I groan. "Yeah. Unfortunately…"

"Well then let's see...this was our second date, right? Which makes the next one our third date? And I think we all know what the third date is, don't we?"

I groan as Georgia's hands slide down my flanks, teasing the sliver of skin under my hoodie with her warm fingers. "You know technically we spent a lot of time together the night we met, so in a sense that was kind of our first date," I tease, and she laughs.

"Nope. Too late. You said you wanted to take it slow, so we're going to take...it...slow…" With each word she leans closer, until her lips are almost touching mine. Then she pulls back with the biggest, shiteatingest grin I've ever seen—and I deal with supervillains. "So...when do you want to have our third date?"

I swallow hard, so turned on I can barely think. God, I must not be fighting enough femme fatale villains lately—my resistance to flirty banter is at a critical low.

"I...I could probably get done with my stuff tonight by the time you get off work…"

Georgia laughs. "It's a date."

* * *

"Well doc? What's the verdict?"

Safiya frowns, but that's not necessarily a bad sign because I don't think I've ever actually seen another expression on her face.

"You can take it off." I groan in relief, undoing the Velcro on the sling and stretching my arm. It's stiff, but it doesn't hurt. "I'd tell you to stay off the streets for another week, just to be safe, but we both know you're not going to. Just keep doing the ice and heat before bed, and try to favor your right."

"Thank you, Safiya. For the help, and for...you know, keeping this quiet."

"Yeah, well." She doesn't have to finish, because she knows I know who she is. Was. Neuro was one of the Centurions' flagship members, using her powers and martial arts training to target her enemies' weak spots with paralyzingly strikes. That is, of course, until her ex-husband leaked her medical records and the public learned about the abortion. The Centurions didn't want the scandal—or to fuel the rumors that it wasn't the first time they'd made a heroine get one—and well...here we are now.

I just say "Yeah."

"You're free to go. We'll bill your insurance. Fight some crime with your girlfriend."

I briefly wonder how she knows about Georgia before I realize what she's talking about and blush. "I...we're not…"

She sighs. "Look, we didn't work together long, but she's a good kid, and she seems to care about you a lot. Don't try to bullshit me. Just make her happy."

I swallow, but it does nothing for the lump in my throat. "I...I'll do my best."

"Good. Now get out."


	7. ...and the Fire

Kit squeals and hugs me, practically knocking me over; Jesus, I need to squeeze in more hand-to-hand training with her, because she is _strong_! I manage to gently pull her off me and ruffle her hair under her hood. Vicky just puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back. Now, let's get to work."

"Right!" Kit says. "Anything we need to keep an eye out for tonight?"

I open my mouth, but Kit and Vicky are both looking at Sadie. She looks at me and blushes. "Oh. Um...I sort of, like...took over the briefings while you were gone? Sorry, I didn't—"

"No, it's fine. What do we need to keep an eye out for?"

Sadie purses her lips, but nods. "Well, Trevor says the cops still haven't caught that carjacker, so if you see any like, you know, older cars out on the street, maybe swing back a couple times to check on them? There's really nothing on the supervillain side, except, you know...keep your eyes open for...Inferno."

"Still no sign of her?" I ask gently, and Sadie shakes her head. I touch her wrist. "Hey. It'll be okay."

She smiles.

"So, you two take north, we take south?" Vicky asks.

Sadie looks at me expectantly, and I realize I'm still touching her. I pull my hand back and clear my throat. "Actually, uh...why don't Kit and I take north? We could stand to get in a little more mentoring time."

I see a flash of something pass over Sadie's eyes, but before I can tell what it is she smiles and nods. "Right. We've got south."

"We'll meet back here at sunrise for debrief?"

I clear my throat. "Actually...I might call it an early night. The shoulder. Can we regroup around...threeish?"

I wince and feel like shit, but everyone just nods in understanding...which, really, just makes me feel worse. Maybe this was a mistake.

I don't say anything else as Kit leads me out the door.

* * *

We make our way north slowly. I'm taking it slow because of my arm, and Kit grapples less efficiently than I do; she has a homemade grappling crossbow that, while not as sleek as my grapple guns, is very her. We're about two blocks north of the gym when she breaks the awkward silence.

"Hey. So...I'm actually kind of glad you wanted to patrol with me tonight. I kind of...need your advice."

I turn from the view of Wilmont Avenue to look at her. "What's up? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. There's just...this girl in my dorm who's been flirting with me lately. Aubrey. I think she's really into me."

I smirk. "Oh, you poor thing."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, yeah, but...the thing is...she's actually someone I went to middle school with. Before I started transitioning. And...I don't think she recognizes me."

I blink. "Oh. Shit."

"Yeah. I'm just...I have to tell her, right? If I actually want...I mean if anything ever actually happens, she's going to find out I'm trans, but...if I tell her we used to...if she puts a face to a name, then...what if she always just sees me as a boy?"

I sigh. My arm circles her shoulder, and she leans into my chest as I try to formulate a response. "I mean...I hate to say this, but I think that's on her. If she can't deal with knowing the truth about you, I don't think that's something you have to feel obligated to fix. If she doesn't...if she can't handle the real you, then I think you need to just recognize that there are other girls out there who can."

Kit hums thoughtfully against my side. "Yeah. That...that makes a lot of sense." I flinch. Yeah, yeah it does make sense, doesn't it? Fucking hypocrite. "I guess I'm just...the thing is, I haven't really gone...you know, all that far with a girl since I started transitioning. What if I can't find someone who's...you know, I mean I haven't had surgery, and—"

"Hey. Did you know I dated a girl with a penis once?"

She pulls back. "Wait. Really?"

"Yeah. Back in Chicago, she was another sidekick. Wildfire. God, she was cute. I mean yes, the sex was awkward, but it wasn't because of her junk, it was because we were even younger than you guys and didn't have the slightest clue what we were doing…"

"So you didn't...mind? That she had a…"

"It was a little weird at first. But I realized pretty quick that she had more issues with it than I did. After that...well, I liked her, so I wanted to help her."

"You really think I can find that?"

"Yeah. I know you can. You just need to be honest, about who you are and what you want." I sigh. "Keeping secrets from your partner is always going to add stress to a relationship. Always."

Kit squeezes my side, then pulls back. "Thanks Ro...I mean, Flying Fox."

I shake off my own shit and make myself smile. "Any time, Kit Fox."

As she turns to continue across the rooftop, I sigh. Turns out I'm better at giving advice than taking it. Big fucking surprise.

* * *

The next few hours are...uneventful. No sign of the carjacker, no street crime, pretty much the only thing we do is help some insomniac walking his dog who got trapped in a sewer grate. The dog, not the insomniac. I'm about to suggest we give up and swing south again when Trevor starts screaming in my ear.

"Hey! Come in! Fire reported on 27th! You need to get back there now!"

I tap my earpiece. "Whoa, we hear you. What's the address?"

"Address, aren't you listening to me? It's the fucking gym!"

Kit and I share a look of shock, then start running.

Since we have the grapples and were moving more slowly, we make it back before Vicky and Sadie do to find the Fox Den a towering column of flame. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I can already hear the sirens, and I turn to Kit to find her with a look of horror on her face. I clap her shoulder. "Hey! Focus! I need you to stay here and help the fire department. I'll check for Inferno!"

She nods nervously, and I grapple up to the roof next door. The heat is intense, but the fire hasn't spread. Yet. My eyes scan the surrounding rooftops, and I catch a flash of movement across the street. There you are bitch!

"I have eyes on Inferno, everyone converge on the roof of Danbury Apartments!"

"Is Danbury the one with the hair salon or the one with the coffee shop?" Vicky asks in my ear.

"Coffee shop!"

"Roger, we're on our way!"

When I clear the rooftop, she's not even running. She's just standing there, grinning. Guess she wants a showdown. Well that's fine with me.

I spread my arms. "Are you fucking serious? You're an inhumanly hot, famous blond white chick with superpowers! This is how you want to spend your time? Really?"

"Ruining the lives of the stupid fucking whores who ruined mine? Uh, yeah!"

She swings her arm and a fireball streaks toward me; I turn to block it with my wing only for a cloud of ice shards to turn it to steam. Sadie rises up over the edge of the roof on a pillar of snow, Vicky and Kit climbing up after her.

"We didn't ruin your life, Ashlyn! You did!"

Inferno snarls. "I told you not to fucking call me that!"

She tosses another fireball at Sadie, who parries again. I move to circle her, Kit and Vicky flanking me, but she slices her hand down and a curtain of greasy red flames springs up between us. "What's the matter, posers? Never fought a real supervillain before?"

"Ash, stop!" She and Sadie are now focused on each other completely, fire and ice streaming from their hands and meeting in a hissing cloud of steam between them. "You don't have to do this! We...were friends!"

"We were never! Fucking! Friends, you stupid! Fucking! Dyke!" With every word, the flames pulse, Inferno's eyes and hair literally glowing orange. I can see Sadie weakening, and my heart lurches in my chest.

Suddenly the flames penning us in dim, and I look down in shock to find Kit with one of her homemade weapons in hand; the compressed-air gun, this time firing little white balls that explode into powder when they hit the flames. She grins. "You were right, boss! I did need to mix it up!"

"Flank her, we'll get her attention!" Vicky says, and I nod and fire at the wall of the building next to us. It'll be tough, but with the right angle I should be able to get behind her. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Kit jumping through the gap in the wall of fire, popping off a few more balls straight at Inferno's outstretched hands. They don't all connect, but they put her off-balance enough for Vicky to get under her beam and sweep her leg, sending her to her back with a screech. She rolls to her feet, flames wreathing her entire upper body, just in time for me to plant my feet right in the middle of her back.

She falls forward with another shriek, then a thud, and before she can react I have her hands ziptied. "Kit, blast her!"

Kit unloads her gun, covering both of us in clouds of white powder. I don't know what it is, and knowing Kit I probably don't want to know. All I know is it gets results.

"Arctic?"

"I'm fine." I look up to find her limping over, Vicky reaching out to hold her up. She's shaking, and her skin is bright red against the white of her costume. "I'm just a little warm."

I chuckle, but it's cut off by Inferno's scream of rage. "You fucking slut! You dumb fucking slut! This isn't over, Sadie! I'll fucking kill you! You did this to me!"

"You know what, Ashlyn? You're right. About everything. You were never my girlfriend. You were never even my friend. Which means I don't have to feel guilty. Not about not playing along with your stupid get-rich-quick scheme, and not about wanting to be a real hero with a real girlfriend who loved me." I smile, and Sadie purses her lips. "Oh. And not about this." Sadie leans down, fist coming down hard across her face. The blonde's head snaps back, then drops to the roof. She's out for the count. Sadie smirks. "Sweet dreams, 'Inferno.'"

There's a moment of silence after she stands back up. Then Kit squeals. "Omigod that was the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen!"

Sadie bites her lip as Kit hugs her. "Really?"

Vicky chuckles and pats her shoulder. "Honey, it was badass."

She looks down at me, and I smile. "You did good."

We all stand, flush with victory, Vicky and I dragging Inferno to the edge of the roof. Which, incidentally, looks out over the fire department still swarming all over the gutted, smoking remains of the gym.

Oh, right. Shit.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me stay here," Sadie shouts over the hiss of the shower.

"Yeah, of course," I shout back through the door. "You just took down your archnemesis, whatever you need."

"Omigod, I did! I have an archnemesis! How cool is that?"

I chuckle. The water shuts off, and I step back from the door to let Sadie out into the main room of my apartment. Her hair's still wet from the shower, her voluptuous body wrapped snugly in my towel, and the red glow of her skin is down to a healthier pink. "Do you want something to drink? I mean you might have burns or heatstroke or—"

Sadie giggles and pushes me toward the door. "I'll be fine. It's your turn to take a shower."

I shrug. "Uh, I'll be fine…"

Sadie blinks. "What? No, you've still got Kit's firefighting whatever all over you, you need to clean up."

I wince. "Yeah I know, but...that's my only towel."

Sadie blinks, then gasps. "Omigod, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think about...I'll get dressed, it's kinda damp but you can still—"

I laugh and grab the edges of the towel to stop her mad sprint towards the bed and the sweats I laid out for her. "Whoa, calm down! It's okay. I can wait. Just...relax." Sadie smiles and ducks her head, blushing a little at her exuberance. The motion makes a wet strand of her shiny black hair fall across her nose, and I smile as I brush it back over her ear. As her cheeks get pinker, I blink. "Hey, I just realized something. Heatstroke." Her eyebrows scrunch up. "That would have been a way better name than Inferno!" Sadie laughs, and I laugh with her. "Sorry all your stuff got burned up."

Sadie actually smiles. "You know what? It's okay. I'm really glad things with Ashlyn worked out the way they did." I tilt my head, and she purses her lips. "I've spent all this time thinking I wasn't good enough...for her, for the Centurions, to be a superhero. But this whole thing made me realize that...she sucks. And like, the Centurions sucked for putting us in that situation in the first place. And none of that's my fault, you know?" She looks up at me with big, hopeful eyes, and I smile. "I don't have to be what other people tell me I have to be. I can be who I want to be." She licks her lips. "And...I can be with who I want to be with."

"That—"

She kisses me. All at once, full on the mouth, and my hands are in her hair before I even realize it. I use my hold to pull her back far enough to say "Wait," but she shakes her head and pushes back.

"It's okay," she murmurs against my lips, "I want it. I know you want me, I want you too…"

I groan as her hands slide up my waist; while she was in the shower I changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which means there's nothing to stop her fingers touching the sliver of skin at my waist. With both our hands gone there's nothing to hold the towel up anymore, and I can only whimper as I feel the lush body I've spent a year trying not to stare at pressed up against me in all its glory.

_This is a bad idea_ , I think as Sadie guides my hands down to her shoulders, her chest.

_We're both in a weird place_ , I think as she pushes her tongue in my mouth and pulls up on my shirt.

_We're going to ruin our friendship, and the team, and everything else_ , I think as she pushes my hand lower, whimpering in raw need.

_We can't do this_ , I think as I throw her to the bed.


	8. ...and the Ashes

When I wake up, there's sunlight streaming through the blinds. That's not unusual with my schedule. What is unusual is the fact that instead of an empty mattress, it's falling across Sadie's naked body.

I can't help but stare. The way she's lying, hair splayed out around her, sheets twisted in her legs, the morning sun lighting her incredible curves, she looks like something out of a Renaissance painting. God, why was I so worried?

This might be the most perfect moment of my life.

My phone buzzes, drawing me partway out of the dreamy haze I'm swimming in. It's a text from Tish.

_I just heard the news! Is everyone okay?_

_Everyone's fine_ , I text back. _Inferno's in custody and Sadie's staying at my place._

Then, _Actually I have some news of my own. Can you do lunch today?_

Before she can respond, I notice I have a lot more text notifications, and I pull them up. That's when the bubble bursts.

_Just finished my shift, are you close?_

_You have second thoughts about tonight?_

_Look if you changed your mind that's fine please just text me_

_I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to push, we can slow things back down again if you want, please just call me_

_Look if you don't want to talk to me that's fine but please just say something so I know you're safe_

With each message from Georgia, I can feel my stomach sinking. Oh God. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck what am I doing how could I be so stupid how could I just forget? I think I'm going to throw up.

"Mm, what time is it?" Sadie starts to shift in bed next to me, and I practically drop my phone. It's not until I look over to find her looking back at me that I remember I'm naked. I stumble out of bed and reach for the hoodie and sweatpants I left out for her last night, now crumpled on the floor. "Rosie? What's wrong?" I can't look at her. If I look at her I'm going to break, I'm going to collapse and tell her everything and suddenly she's grabbed my hand and pulled me back around to stare into those big watery green eyes. "Look...I'm sorry. If I pushed too fast or—"

"I'm seeing someone," I blurt out. Sadie blinks, drops my hand. "I just started seeing someone, this girl Georgia and I thought it was going so well but I should have known I'd find a way to fuck it up and I'm so sorry I never wanted to hurt you but...I've wanted you so much for so long and last night I just…"

Sadie shrinks back to the bed, wrapping the sheet around her chest, her eyes dropping guiltily. "I'm sorry," she mumbles. I can see tears in the corners of her eyes. "You...you tried to stop me, and I...I'm so stupid! I'm such a stupid fucking slut!"

"Nonono Sadie look at me, look at me." I lean forward and cup her cheeks to make her look up, not even thinking about how much worse I could make things. "You were right last night, okay? You were right, none of this is your fault." She swallows, and my hands drop. "I just...I have to go. I have to think. I'm sorry…"

Sadie sits up. "No, no I should go, it's your place and I—"

"No just...just stay here." I hold out one hand as I struggle into my sneakers. "This is my fault, I'm sorry, I just...I have to think."

I'm fumbling with my phone as I close the door behind me. It rings four times, and I think it's going to go to voicemail before I hear a click and an icy "I'm on my way to an interview, this has better be good."

I flinch. "I'm sorry, last night, I...my friend's house burned down."

There's silence on the other end of the line, then "Wait...are you serious? Jesus, are they okay? Are you—"

"They're fine, I'm fine, I just...there was...I need to talk to you. I need to see you."

"Sure, hey, of course, but...I'm booked all day. I'm interviewing two people, I have to cover for another girl at work...can it wait until I get off?"

I take a deep breath, try to stop my hands from shaking. "Yeah. Of course. I...I'll see you at three?"

"Okay. Look, about last night...never mind. Just stay safe."

I swallow. "You too."

Georgia hangs up, and I glance at the screen to find a response from Tish.

_Sure I'm free. Usual place?_

With a single glance back at the door to the apartment, I turn and just start walking. I manage to make it all the way to the end of the hall before I start crying.

* * *

I have just enough time before Tish's lunch hour to get my panic attack under control. When she comes down to the lobby of her building, she's already talking.

"Yeah, she's right here! No, I'll tell her, you just do what you gotta do. Love ya, bye. Hey, that was Jenna! She says thanks, and to thank Trevor; he found the guy who doxxed her! Apparently he's just some online SMRA who gets his kicks this way, but since Jenna's merchandized she can sue his ass for defamation! Hey, are you okay? You look like shit."

I can feel the tears starting again. Fuck. "I...Tish...I fucked up."

* * *

"Jesus. I mean I knew it had to happen eventually, but—"

"Wow, helpful, thanks."

"Sorry, I just meant—"

"That you were right this whole time and I'm a fucking dumbass who just ruined two relationships for the price of one, yeah, I get it."

"That's not...does Georgia know?"

"I'm telling her tonight."

"Are you sure that's the best way to handle this?"

I glare. "Seriously? What ever happened to 'secrets add stress to relationships'?"

"I just mean that...you're really raw right now. Maybe if you waited a couple days to get things sorted out in your head first…"

"No. No, I fucked up and I was stupid to think I could do this. I'm telling Georgia, I'm telling her everything, then I'll just...I don't know."

Tish sighs. "Okay. Well, however it goes...you still got me."

I almost smile. "Thanks."

Tish shakes her head and leans across the table to wrap her arms around me. "I really do love you, you stupid bitch."

* * *

After lunch, I steel myself and head back to the apartment. I don't know what else I'm going to say to Sadie, but I know I have to find something to do to keep from going crazy before 3 _am_ and I really would like to put on some actual clothes.

When I open the door, the apartment is empty. At first glance there's no sign of Sadie, but then I see the note on the fridge.

_Clara said I could stay with her. I'm sorry for fucking everything up again. If you don't want me in the Vixens that's okay. If you hate me, that's okay too._

_I'm just sorry. I'm really really really sorry._

_-Sadie Jefferson_

I rip the note down with a frustrated hiss. Fuck. Focus, Rosie. One crisis at a time. First, get out of these sweats and take the shower you've needed since last night but never took because of...everything. Then get dressed, then go find Sadie, then…

I sigh. First things first. Sweats. Shower. Fix your fucked-up life later.

* * *

I knock on the door to Clara's apartment, my foot nervously tapping against the floor. I tried calling Sadie on the way over, but she must have turned her phone off.

"Sadie? Can we just talk? Please? We need to talk about this."

I hear a creak, and I spin around as the door across the hall opens to reveal an elderly man with a mustache. "If you're lookin' for the redhead, she ain't here."

I wince. "No, I'm looking for someone else. Black hair, staying with her. Have you seen—"

He's already closed the door.

I sigh and slump down against Clara's door. I already texted Clara, but she just demanded to know what happened. So now I text Kit and Vicky to ask if either of them has heard from her. They haven't.

Fuck. Sadie, where are you?

* * *

In the end, I do what I always do when I'm freaking out and restless and don't know what I'm doing; I throw on the costume and get to work. Maybe that doesn't sound super healthy but, well, that's honestly the way it works; anyone who's not heroing as a marketing exercise or a kink thing is probably doing it to cope.

So I patrol Overton Row on my own until sunset, which mostly consists of taking selfies with people who see me swinging by rather than actually fighting crime, but whatever, it passes the time. Around four Trevor comes over my comms.

"Hey boss, Kit's in the group chat asking where you're supposed to meet tonight for briefing now that everything's, you know…"

Ruined, he tactfully avoids saying. Everything's ruined. He doesn't know the half of it. I sigh. "How about...the roof of the Danbury?"

"Kay. You got it."

"Thanks. Oh, before I forget, Jenna says thanks for finding that guy."

"Aw, I'm blushing. Hell, I'm happy to do anything that gets her back in that skintight suit."

I roll my eyes, then as the silence stretches on I clear my throat. "Hey, you haven't...you haven't heard anything from Sa...from Arctic today, have you?"

"No, she's MIA. Why?"

"No reason, forget about it."

"Uh-huh. So it doesn't have anything to do with you two finally lezzing out last night?" My mouth drops open, and Trevor chuckles in my silence. "I live right across the hall, and I'm about as stupid as you guys are quiet."

I clench my jaw. "It's complicated."

"Okay, whatever. Hey, for what it's worth...I'm happy for you guys."

I kill the comms.

* * *

The sun's just finished setting when I glide down to the roof of Danbury Apartments. Kit and Vicky are both there, looking around expectantly. Sadie isn't.

"Where's Arctic Fox?" Vicky asks, and I try not to flinch.

"She...had some personal stuff to take care of. It'll just be the three of us for now. Plus I'm gonna have to leave early."

"More personal stuff?" Vicky smirks knowingly, and I sigh.

"Look, it's a long story. Hopefully I can fill you both in tomorrow. In the mean time, why don't we do a couple sweeps north to south, then you guys can do the last one after I leave?"

Kit nods, obviously a little lost. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, boss."

I sigh again as we turn to leave. _Just make it through tonight_ , I keep telling myself, _and maybe you can fix this._


	9. ...and the Talk

Three o'clock comes too fast.

I wave Kit and Vicky goodbye, then rush home to change. I consider not even bothering, just airing everything at once, but...well, Roger taught me to be paranoid, and if this goes especially bad I don't necessarily want to give a woman scorned the knowledge of my secret identity.

But then, of course, Georgia's really the only person who'd care.

She's loitering outside the club when I jog up, ignoring the guys who stagger past trying to pick her up. She perks up when she sees me, then schools her face just like I school mine.

"Hi."

"Hi." I swallow. "Can we...can we go talk somewhere?"

* * *

We end up in a 24-hour donut shop down the street from the club, each with a plain cake donut we bought so they wouldn't kick us out. Now we're both just staring awkwardly at them. I clear my throat.

"I...I need to tell you about last night."

Georgia smirks uneasily. "Let me guess. There was no fire."

"No, there was. My friend lost pretty much everything."

She winces. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound—"

"Please, just let me get this out. This friend...Sadie...she had to stay with me last night. And...there's been this...thing between us for a long time, and things last night were just so raw and...she kissed me. And I...I kissed her back. And we...we didn't...stop. I didn't...stop myself." I don't, can't, look up, but I don't need to because the silence from across the table speaks volumes. "I...I like you. So much. And I...I said I wanted to take things slow because I was afraid I'd do something to fuck that up, and now I did, just like I knew I would, and...I'm sorry. I'm...I'm stupid, and selfish, and I'm sorry."

The silence stretches on. Finally, I hear Georgia's lips pop. "How long?"

I blink and look up to find Georgia studying her donut. "What?"

"You said there's been 'this thing' between you for a long time. How long?"

I lick my lips. "I guess...since we started working together. About a year ago."

"So why didn't this happen before now?"

"I...I guess I was afraid of fucking up the friendship too."

Georgia laughs bitterly. "Jesus. Yeah, then I guess you are pretty fucking stupid."

I wince. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Jesus Christ, stop fucking apologizing!" I shut up. I'd say 'before I make things worse,' but...well, yeah. Georgia sighs, then falls silent. That silence stretches on until it's unbearable, until I'm ready to risk saying something else stupid just to break it. I open my mouth. "Do you know Foxy's not the first club I've danced at?" I blink. Georgia's still looking at her donut. "I used to work at a place downtown called Mysteries. I had to quit after things got awkward with a couple of the other girls. See this girl Carmel and I started seeing each other. And it was really good for a while. But then a couple months in, she and this other dancer, this friend of ours named Vivian, they got wasted and hooked up. And after it happened, all these feelings came out, and Carmel told me all about how sorry she was, and how good we'd been together, and how much she wished things could have been different. But the thing was...I'd had a massive crush on Vivian ever since I got there. And if they'd just talked to me, I would have told them that them being together and me being with both of them was exactly what I wanted. But they decided I'd been cheated on. Without even asking me."

She falls silent again, still staring at her donut. I...don't even know what to fucking think. She can't really be...can she? "Oh." I lick my lips. "You...you don't even know Sadie."

She shrugs. "And I barely know you. So if you want to use this as an excuse to cut me loose and be with her, that's fine. Just don't insult me by pretending it's my choice."

My head is swimming. I shake it. "I...I didn't think...I've never been in a situation like this before." Am I really considering this? But then...why shouldn't I be? "I...I really like you. Both of you. But...I don't even know how Sadie feels about what happened, and—"

"Well then you better ask. Because the only way this kind of thing works is if we're all honest with each other."

I nod, then take a deep breath. I'd never even considered the possibility of...what's it called, polyamory? But then, I've barely been able to get one girl to like me most of the time, so I guess maybe it just hasn't come up. I could be really shallow and say that obviously I'd want to have two hot girlfriends instead of one, who wouldn't, but...I mean the truth is I like Sadie. A lot. And I like Georgia a lot. And if there's a way that I don't have to give one of them up, that we could all just...be happy…

Would that really be so bad?

I shake my head. "Can you...come with me? I mean, so you can meet her, and...you might do a better job explaining than I would, so—"

"Yeah, of course. If...you really want to do this."

I blow out a breath. "I want to try."

Georgia smiles. "Good."

"But...since we're being honest...there's something else I need to tell you."

Georgia's eyebrows rise. "Is this about how you don't really work in private security?" My eyes go wide, and she smirks. "You hesitated, gave a generic answer, and then quickly changed the subject. Plus it's my job."

I nod and wince; I have to give her that one. "It wasn't...that much of a lie. I do...protect people." Here we go, Rosie. Last step. "I just...do it in a...costume."

Georgia blinks, then her eyes go even wider. Then she starts laughing. "God, I'm such an idiot!" I open my mouth to try to reassure her, or apologize, or something, but she's smiling. "You're an Olympic gymnast with unexplained injuries who's also an orphan, of course you're a superhero!"

I glance around to make sure no one's listening, but the donut shop's still basically empty. Not that it really matters; the list of people I'm actively keeping my secret identity from just went back down to zero.

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, I just...it's taken over my life, and all my friends are heroes, and...I guess it just felt good to have one relationship where instead of Flying Fox I just got to be...you know, Rosario."

She reaches across the table to take my hand, and I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. "Hey, I get it. It's not...wait. Flying Fox? Holy shit, I've heard of you! There was like...right, that viral video last year, of you Spider-Man kissing that girl!" I groan. Jesus, you let one sorority girl play out one little fantasy and it stays with you forever. Georgia's laugher fades. "So wait, this girl Sadie...is she one too?"

"Arctic Fox. She used to be Blizzard on the Centurions."

"Wait, her? Seriously? Holy shit! Okay, yeah, me liking her's not gonna be a problem." I chuckle. "Just promise me one thing."

"Of course."

"If this all goes bad and she starts throwing around ice powers...I get to use you as a human shield."

I laugh. "Fair."

* * *

A text to Clara helpfully informs me that Sadie said she planned to stick around her place for the night, then unhelpfully asks what exactly happened between us. I text back that I'll tell her tomorrow.

I knock on Clara's door. There's only silence in response, but I can tell from the gap under the door that the lights are on. I sigh and lean into it. "Sadie it's me, can we please talk? Please?"

More silence. I look at Georgia, who shrugs sympathetically. I knock again.

"You lookin' for that girl again?" I jump and Georgia squeaks as we spin around to find the old man peeking through his door. I sigh.

"Yes, actually."

"She's in there. Been there since 10:05."

Georgia's nose wrinkles. "And why do you know—"

He slams the door. I sigh and knock on Clara's again. "Please, Sadie. I need to see you, just open the door…"

I hear shuffling on the other side and take a deep breath. About thirty seconds later, the door opens and I let it out.

Sadie's wearing baggy pajamas that—given the horses all over them—I'm assuming must be Clara's. She has her hair down around her face, and given the color of said face I'm worried she hasn't stopped crying since the morning. God, I'm such an idiot. When she sees me it looks like she's about to start again, and without even thinking I pull her into a hug.

"It's okay, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm so sorry I shouldn't have run out on you you didn't do anything wrong…"

Slowly, her sobbing forms into words. "I...I'm sorry...I...I made you cheat on your girlfriend just like I made Weathergirl cheat on her husband I'm sorry, I always do this, it's all my fault…"

"No, nonono shh, you know that's not true. You're not responsible for what other people do, remember? Remember what you said last night? I was so proud of you, don't give up now."

"But I...I fucked everything up. With you and...and your girlfriend."

I swallow. "Uh, yeah, about that...can we come in?" Sadie blinks at the word 'we,' then pulls back and opens the door the rest of the way. Her eyes go wide when she sees Georgia. "Sadie, this is Georgia."

Georgia smiles gently, and Sadie starts shaking again. "Omigod, please, I'm so sorry—"

She freezes when Georgia pulls her into a hug. Georgia draws her in, squeezes her tight, as I let the door slip shut behind us. "It's okay. I promise, no one's mad, no one's hurt, it's okay." Slowly, Sadie relaxes in Georgia's arms, even if the look of confusion doesn't leave her face. Georgia pulls back to look her in the eyes. "I understand. You care about her. A lot. And she cares about you." Georgia sits Sadie down on Clara's couch as I watch, mesmerized by her tenderness. "And I care about her too. And that's a good thing. It's not something that we should be punished for, just for wanting to be with the same person." Sadie nods hesitantly. Georgia looks up at me, like she's asking for permission, and I can only silently nod. "That's why...we should share."

Sadie blinks, then looks up. "Wh...what?"

Georgia slips her hand into Sadie's and takes a deep breath. "I think the best thing would be for all of us to be together." When Sadie's eyes go wide, Georgia squeezes her hand. "Look, the alternative is...what? Rosario has to pick one of us? Or we have to pick for her? That's just going to make everyone miserable. Wouldn't it be better if we could all just...be happy? All three of us?"

Sadie's eyebrows scrunch. "You mean, like...we'd both date her at the same time?"

Georgia shrugs. "Well, I was thinking of it more like...we'd all date each other. We don't just have to be Rosario's girlfriends, I mean if she thinks you're that special I figure I'd want to get to know you too. And I guess I kind of hoped you'd feel the same way about me."

Sadie purses her lips, eyes flitting from Georgia to me and back. "So...we'd all be dating each other at the same time? Like...a thrupple?"

I can't keep myself from groaning. "Oh Jesus, is that what it's called? That's awful!"

Georgia chuckles. "Well I prefer the term 'triad,' but the point is...maybe we could all be happy that way. What do you think?"

Sadie frowns thoughtfully. "I guess I've never really thought about it before. Would we like...go out on dates two at a time, or all together? Would we all, um...you know…"

Sadie blushes—as do I when the image pops into my head—but Georgia just squeezes her hand reassuringly. "Well, that's stuff we'd all have to talk about. About what we want and what makes us comfortable. We all just need to be honest with each other."

Sadie licks her lips, then looks up at me. "Is this...this is what you want?"

I take a deep breath. "If we can make it work...if we can all be happy...I want to try. But if you...Sadie, I'd never make you do anything you're uncomfortable with, so—"

She holds out her hand. When I take it, a single sharp tug makes me yelp in surprise and fall right down into a three-way hug. As Georgia and Sadie's arms wrap...no, you know what, as my girlfriends' arms wrap around me, I can't help but smile as the last of the tension leaves my body. I'm sure this will take some work. I'm sure I'm going to fuck it up once or twice. I'm sure it'll be complicated.

But you know what? Fuck it. I'm an orphaned Olympic gymnast turned fruit-bat-themed vigilante who accidentally put together a team of superheroes and just helped one of them take down her fire-spewing corporate-sponsored fake ex-girlfriend archnemesis.

What part of my life isn't a little complicated?


	10. ...and the Happy Ending

"Sly Fox to Flying Fox."

"Go ahead."

"Kit and Silver are in position. Awaiting your arrival."

"Copy, we'll be right there." I turn back to Georgia, standing half-in half-out of the door on the roof of her apartment building. "Sorry, looks like we've gotta fly."

"Yeah, yeah." She grins, then pulls me in for a kiss. "Go save the city, hero." I turn to Sadie to find her smirking, and pull out my grapple guns. "Wait!" We turn back to find Georgia hooking her finger at Sadie. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sadie smiles sheepishly, then leans over to let Georgia grab her by the hair and pull her into a kiss every bit as passionate as the one we just shared. I can't help but smile; the last month has been a whole lot of new and sometimes terrifying experiences, but the best part has been watching Sadie and Georgia'a relationship grow into a tender romance that would almost make me jealous if I wasn't part of it.

Wait, no. The best part is the sex.

"You know what my one regret in all this is?" They both turn to look at me. "I've always wanted to have a secret identity love triangle with myself, and now that you know I won't get the chance."

Georgia laughs. "Well maybe if we ever add a fourth…"

Sadie giggles, and I groan. "Oh God, don't even joke! I can barely handle the two of you." Georgia and Sadie share a sly glance, then another kiss. I lean in to get one too. "We'll see you tomorrow, baby."

"Be safe out there."

I give her a wink and grapple to the building across the street, Sadie keeping pace on an ice slide. We're expecting a quiet patrol tonight; maybe we'll swing by Foxy towards the end of the night. In the end, taking the sponsorship turned out not to be that big a deal; a few posters, a few fly-bys, merch sales actually went up when the club started selling it onsite, and it's not like it's any more tacky than a superhero hocking toothpaste. Besides, we needed the money to fix up the Den, and it gives us an excuse to go see Georgia work. I thought I was turned on by her sexy nun routine, but the first time Sadie saw it? Well, let's just say that turned out to be a very good night for all three of us.

"So have you given her anymore thought?" Sadie shouts as we race along the streets, and I frown.

"I don't know…"

"C'mon, she's good! We're in a good place right now, we could totally expand!"

"Yeah, she seems nice, she's got cool powers, I just think promoting a hero named Starfox is just begging for a lawsuit."

"Not if it's one word! Look, complain all you want, I'm gonna get my way eventually. I always do!"

I roll my eyes, but can't help but smile.

We coast to a stop at the corner of 24th and Wilmont, Kit waving and Vicky nodding as we land on the sidewalk beside them.

"You two are running late," Vicky purrs with a knowing smirk. "Have fun with your girlfriend?"

Sadie smirks right back. "Yes, as a matter of fact we did."

"What about you, Kit?" I ask. "How are things with Aubrey?"

She turns bright red behind her mask, which given her Mediterranean complexion is really saying something. "Um, they're...good. She's been really, um...good."

I'm about to tease her more when the sound of a fire engine siren rises around us. We all share a tense look; ever since Inferno went into holding Sadie's been obsessing over the idea of her getting out. I square my shoulders. "Come on, let's go."

The truck's lights appear less than two blocks away, sirens still blaring as we sweep in. As I glide down, the water cannon on the back of the truck begins to move. I barely have time to register the strange vapor coming off the stream of liquid before Sadie screams "Down!" and knocks me to the pavement, the spray freezing over our heads long enough for us to get behind the cover of a nearby car. When the pressure grows too great, it bursts, clouds of acrid vapor spraying forth and forcing us deeper into the car's shadow. I glance at Kit and Vicky, who shrug. I'm about to risk a peek over the hood when a voice booms over the truck's speakers.

"Fox Girl! At last, we meet again, for the last time!"

The voice makes my eyes go wide. When I look through the car windows, I groan. "Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

The scrawny white guy in neon-painted football pads and swim goggles laughs. "It is I, your archnemesis, the lord of liquids...Squirt!"

Kit snorts. "Wait. Seriously?"

Vicky raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "You know this guy?"

I roll my eyes and lean back up over the car. "If you were really my archnemesis you'd learn my fucking name, asshole!"

"After the last time you and Snow Fox put me away, I bided my time, drip-feeding resources until I was flush with everything I needed to take you down!" I don't know if he can't hear me or if he's just ignoring me.

"Sadie, what can you do about the acid in that tank?"

"If I can't see it I can't freeze it, sorry!"

"Kit, do you have a clear shot?"

"No, he's behind the spray shield or whatever it's called. You know you really should think about carrying some ranged weapons too, like at least flashbombs or Flying-Foxarangs or—"

"Not the time!"

Squirt—Jesus, I still can't even think that name with a straight face—is still monologuing. "Now, with my fire truck full of sulfuric acid, I can finally have my reven—gah, what the fuck? Get it off me! Get it off me!"

As he's drowned out by what sounds almost like fireworks, we leap up to find the controls of the water cannon surrounded by a halo of multicolored sparks. We can only watch in stunned silence as Squirt climbs onto the top of the truck, swatting at his arms and head where the sparks have landed, wheeling wildly as a figure in old-school red tights ducks underneath him and lays him out with a single punch. As Squirt falls, Kit tilts her head.

"Hey, isn't that—"

The tall, shaggy blond guy waves in our direction. "Fear not, fellow superheroes! Roman Candle is here to save the day!"

I can't help laughing. Sure, why the fuck not? This is Superior City. Stranger things have happened.

"Thank you, Roman Candle," Sadie shouts, and he shoots us a grin and a salute.

"All in a day's work, right? Hey, we should patrol together sometime! You know, I could cover waagh!"

As he trips over the hose leading to the water cannon and lands flailing next to the unconscious Squirt, Kit bursts out laughing and I shake my head. "Great. We've made a friend."

"It could be worse," Sadie says as she wraps her hand around my waist. "He could want to be our nemesis."

I laugh. You know, all things considered? Being a superhero doesn't suck. "Hey, Arctic Fox?"

Sadie tilts her head. "Yes, Flying Fox?"

"Thanks. For saving my life back there."

Sadie grins as she pulls me in for a kiss. "Any time."


End file.
